


Misplaced Memories

by Dacro



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Attempted Kidnapping, Auror Harry, Dirty Talk, Dream Sex, Established Relationship, Grief/Mourning, Hair-pulling, Healer Draco, Injury Recovery, M/M, Memory Loss, Mystery, Same-Sex Marriage, Semi-Public Sex, St Mungo's Hospital, Wedding Rings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-31
Updated: 2013-08-08
Packaged: 2017-12-21 23:14:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 38,749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/906090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dacro/pseuds/Dacro
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <b>Harry is hit by an unknown curse and loses eighteen years of his memories. When he wakes up, he doesn't remember magic, Hogwarts or that he's happily married to a former Death Eater. Draco struggles to adapt to the changes and tries to help Harry retrieve his memories without causing further damage.</b>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [saladbats](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=saladbats).



> First and foremost, I don’t think any of this would have been possible without Saladbats and her limitless heart. She’s been my beta, friend, biggest fan and cheerleader in days of feast and in times of drought. Thank you for being on this journey with me! Thanks also to Lusiology for the britpicking and lots of encouragement.  
> One last thank-you to my Lubricus family. You keep slash alive and pulsing.

Misplaced Memories

 

"Harry, on your right!"

The hex cut through fabric and flesh before he could avoid the hit. He spun with the impact and found cover behind an oak. Harry gave a nod across the field to Butler for the warning and took a second to assess his burning side.

Butler called out again. "You hit?"

A quick poke through the tear of his outer robe and shirt revealed very little damage to his skin. Still, it stung like the wrong end of a Skrewt and was beginning to swell. He looked up at Butler who was directing a spiralling cloud of debris toward the two assassins hiding out behind their own trees. "Nothing serious."

Butler's pale ginger hair made another appearance from where he was crouching behind a patch of brambles. "Good. Make the call!"

Harry threw up a shield charm, stepped clear of the oak and set fire to the trees hiding their opponents. He had no doubt that he and Butler would have the situation wrapped up quickly, still, they were also expected to follow protocol, which included calling in any attacks the moment they happened.

The oak beside Harry suddenly exploded. The force of it knocked him sideways and dissolved his protection spell. He rolled over a rock, and then enlarged it until it hid most of him. He gave a startled Butler the thumbs up and tried to conjure a happy memory.

"Expecto Patronum!" The stag burst from the wand and tossed his head. "Under attack in the field beside The Church of All Saints—two miles south of Malfoy Manor. Muggle-repelling charms have been cast, but fires have been set that will attract attention soon enough." He lightly touched his injury and noted that the swelling was getting worse. "Auror Butler, sound. Auror Potter, one injury—manageable. Two assailants wearing black Muggle coats and red masks—unidentified." The Patronus turned and ran in the direction of the Ministry before vanishing a few seconds later.

The heat and smoke from the burning trees stung Harry's eyes as the wind's direction worked against them.

"Back-up on the way?" Butler asked, narrowly missing a green curse as it sailed over his left shoulder. He flopped down next to Harry.

"Should be. Have any idea who's shooting at us?"

"Nope," Butler said, pulling at his sweat-darkened collar. "Red masks, though, that's new."

Harry nodded, a plan quickly forming in his mind. "So, let's fake with a decoy burst to the middle. I'll go right and disarm them; you cut off the bloke on the left and Incarcerous them on three, all right?"

Butler wiped a hand across his eyes leaving a sooty smudge behind. He squinted into the haze. "You don't want to wait for the team?"

"We can, but we have a better chance of getting information if we can secure them now. Once everyone starts popping up, these two will Apparate and we'll have nothing but this bloody smoke."

Butler gave a quick nod. "Makes sense to me. Say the word."

Red sparks hit the rock, sending up a spray of grit and dust. Harry raised his arm to protect his glasses, but Butler hadn't been as quick. A line of blood opened up just under his eye.

"All right," he said with look of annoyance. "I've had enough of this. Tell me when, Harry."

Harry cast a mirror charm and watched as the two men slowly walked toward his hiding place, side by side. He waited until they were within disarming distance then whispered "Now!" to Butler as he tossed the decoy up and over the rock.

They sprang into action, as planned, Harry running right and Butler charging left. The decoy spun, clanging like the sound of fifty cymbals and shot jets of hot steam at the two men who jumped back in surprise. Two wands soared into Harry's waiting left hand, and the men, void of options, lifted their arms in surrender.

Butler's silent Incarcerous was doing its work when several figures popped into existence around them. Harry's eyes swept over the usual members of the back-up team, spotting the one new addition, Draco Malfoy—medical bag in hand.

"Is it 'bring your partner to work' day already?" Harry whispered, flashing Draco a smile as the new arrivals made quick work of the fires.

Draco looked up to the heavens and shook his head slightly. "Your professionalism needs a bit of polish, Potter. You reported an injury and I was on-call."

"It's nothing that can't wait, but it's good to see you anyway."

"Thank you, but why don't you let me be the judge of how serious it is?"

Harry shrugged out of his robe and decided to mess with Draco again. "You just want to get my shirt off in front of…"

Draco's eyes went wide with panic as he spotted something over Harry's shoulder. His mouth moved, but Harry couldn't make out the words over the sudden shouts of the other Aurors.

As Harry turned toward the commotion, something red-hot slammed into the side of his head. He cried out, but the words died in his throat. 

The world snapped into darkness.

~*~

Draco stood in shock, Harry's ruined robe falling from his fingers. Harry had been there, right there, and then…

There had been a man, a third man wearing the coat and mask Harry had described in his message. He'd moved so fast, or perhaps he just used the distraction to his advantage. His wand had come up, the curse flew across the field and…

Draco remembered the hit, watched helplessly when Harry's head snapped to the side and reached for him as he vanished.

Draco choked on a breath as his world flew apart. His brain tried to provide him with facts, tried to help him puzzle out where to begin, but the hollow pain in his chest was creeping higher, constricting everything and mucking up his thoughts. "Please, don't be dead," was the only thing he managed to whisper before a sizable cut opened up across his left hip. The pain spun him back to the present and he became aware of the uproar around him.

"Malfoy! Get down!" Butler demanded, seconds before he knocked Draco to the ground, streaks of light dancing overhead. "What were you thinking, just standing there? You didn't even draw your wand! Healer Malfoy! Draco, do you hear me?" Butler swore and covered them with a shimmering Shield Charm. Draco's eyes wandered down to his thigh. It wasn't good. Long cuts across tight skin usually translated to a bit more work on the Healer's part, but he couldn't make his hands reach for his wand. There was something fascinating about catching glimpses of his muscles under the blood. He chuckled weakly at the thought of all the people who made it their top priority to keep clean and tidy while inside, their human bodies were filled with so many bright colours, foul smells and busy little organisms.

Butler, as if noticing the mess for the first time, gasped, "Malfoy, stay awake! What can I do?"

"Duis Sanguinem—to stop the bleeding," Draco offered. His words sounded strange and slow, but he could do little about it but frown as Butler repeated the spell.

Draco ignored the noise around them and watched as the last colours of the evening sky surrendered to the slashes of curse light that streaked overhead. Just as he was beginning to get cold, someone shouted that the final attacker had been captured.

"Lewis! The bloody Healer is injured! He's lost a good deal of blood and I think he's in shock. Get him out of here!"

Draco heard the words and grasped their meaning just before they faded away, replaced by the image of Harry's face distorted in pain. Butler's voice droned on in the distance, but Draco closed his eyes and shut out everything except the feel of the rough fabric of Harry's robe trapped between his body and the cold ground.

~*~

Dark.

_Ow!_

At first, Harry thought he might have kicked off his blanket while having another bad dream, and was now back on his cot in the cupboard, but something wasn't right with that thought. He hurt all over—his head pounding, ribs stinging. He didn't need sight to know his side was a mess. Even a light touch to the puffy bump was too much, and his wet, sticky shirt clung to the injury.

There was also no light from the hallway creeping under the door—no light whatsoever, but if he wasn't under the stairs, he didn't know where else he might be. A few different images played out in his mind, but none of them seemed to fit. The last thing he remembered was watching Dudley parade his new haircut in front of Uncle Vernon. Harry thought he looked like a pig in a wig, but he hadn't said it out loud. Next, Harry was in a field laughing with a blond man, or maybe he was in a fight. 

He remembered falling. 

His fingers searched out the gritty surface beneath him. Dirt. He could smell it in the air as his head began to clear. He tried again to pick up on any source of light, blink his eyes to see if they still worked, but darkness surrounded him and offered no help. Crawling forward, he discovered what felt like a pile of rocks, and as he worked around the room—cave—he found more of the same, and most importantly, no way out.

When he called out for help, his voice didn't bounce or echo like he'd expected it to. It just died, melting into the dirt and dust. It also sounded wrong. He repeated the call a few times to make sure the voice really belonged to him. There was definitely something odd about the pitch – low and thick – like a man's. 

_Really wrong._

Slivers of fear grew into panic as he realised how much trouble he was in: hurt, trapped, scared and no indication that there was anyone around to help him out of this mess.

His head pounded, ached in a way it never had before, even after a punching episode with Dudley and Piers on the rare occasion they managed to catch him. Rubbing his eyes caused flashes and sparks of light to pop at the edge of his vision. The skin at his temple burned like the injury across his ribs, but at least there wasn't a lot of swelling. He remembered hearing something about swelling around the head being a bad thing but he couldn't remember why.

He explored his body next, fingers working down from his throbbing head: a neck too thick, shoulders too broad, shirt with buttons, chest too wide—a necklace. _I don’t own a necklace_ , he thought, but it was there. He loosened a few buttons and felt the chain that, when pulled tight, ended in the centre of his chest. Something hung in the middle, round and smooth, probably a ring. It seemed to warm at his touch, but since that wasn't possible…

Suddenly, the ring flared with heat. He let go, but it swung back, burning where it touched his skin. He yanked at the chain, but it wouldn't give, so he held it away from him and prayed he was simply going mad or in a very bad dream and would wake soon.

As if in answer to his plea, the cave began to rumble. The floor shook with such force that the rock walls made a horrible grating noise. Harry searched his mind for what to do in the event of an earthquake, but all he could remember was something about staying away from windows and hiding under furniture. He patted his clothes, looking for something that would protect him, something he needed to hold - something he could almost see a hazy picture of in his mind, but the image faded with the next loud crash. He crouched down in the dirt and tried to stay calm, but he could feel the tears coming while rocks tumbled down around him.

As the room collapsed, he gripped the ring—harmless once again—and whispered an apology for whatever he'd done to end up in this place. As his world ended, Harry thought he heard someone calling out his name. It was one last good thought, but he knew he had never been more alone.

~*~

Draco limped forward down the hall, clinging to the temporary walking cane so tightly his knuckles had lost all colour. He'd refused the floating chair, although he was half-regretting it now. He knew the other staff members were only doing their jobs, tending to their colleague—admirable and right—but their work of mending his leg had kept him from being present when Harry had been brought in.

Making the turn down the next corridor sent a shock of pain down his leg. It was quick enough work to close up the injury, but the muscles and tendons weren’t as willing to forgive and forget. The leg needed a few days rest to regain strength, it's what Draco would have demanded of any other patient, but he wasn't waiting around while Harry needed him. More to the fact, _he_ needed to see Harry with his own eyes before any resting was in the cards.

Master Healer Attwood stood in front of the door to Harry's room. He passed something to Healer Kelly and sent her on her way before making eye contact with Draco.

The man looked liked Draco felt—torn, exhausted. It was the look of someone bearing bad news.

"Healer Attwo… Erastus," Draco began, pausing to take a deep breath. "What's his status?"

The man sighed and rubbed a hand across his forehead. "I have a monster of a dilemma, Draco, and I'm not sure I know how to proceed."

Draco swallowed and tried to remain calm, but he was sure his heart was echoing down the corridor. If the head of St Mungo's was withholding information, the situation was far worse than Draco had anticipated. "Just tell me."

A weary half-smile appeared as he moved closer and lowered his voice. "But whom should I tell: Healer Malfoy or Draco, the husband?" He pressed a warm hand onto Draco's shoulder. "I'm afraid this is going to be much harder on the latter."

Draco's chest was aching again, stealing his breath away as he assumed the worst. His fingers searched out the ring hidden under his shirt. "It's still warm. He can't be dead. What, what is it? I want to see him."

"And so you will, but I think it might be better if you're prepared. Let's begin with the physical. He is, considering his ordeal and condition after the cave collapsed, doing fairly well, physically. Minor abrasions, bruising, slight dehydration, elevated blood pressure, soft tissue damage and three cracked ribs – all taken care of."

"Who administered the treatment?"

"Taking into account Mr Potter's high profile, the concern of the Ministry and the nature of his complications, I've assigned myself and sent for a few specialists I know and trust. If you feel up to it, I believe the team could do with your expertise as well."

"Thank you, sir." Draco wished the conversation would come to a conclusion. The longer he stayed out in the corridor, the harder it was to keep composed in front of his employer. Suddenly, Draco remembered what Erastus had been saying. 

"Complications?"

"Yes. Minor trauma to both eyes from the rock fragments and dust led to infection, so he's been fitted with a shield."

Draco nodded. Temporary blindness. He and Harry could cope with that. "The shield will do its work and be off in a few days. What else?"

Erastus stepped ever closer as a group of chatty Junior Mediwizards passed by. "I'm still getting mixed opinions from the Aurors as to the type of spell used to transport Mr Potter into the cave. Prior Incantato indicated an unregistered spell called Nortia. The men who were apprehended have been unhelpful so far, but we may know more soon. Most of the team believe it was a variation on a simple banishing spell, but they're not ruling it as conclusive just yet. Whichever it was, getting hit with the full impact of the spell on the side of the head seems to have effectively banished some of Mr Potter's memories. Whether it's permanent or temporary, I'm uncertain, that's why I felt a small conference of specialists might be our best option. 

"What are you saying? Harry doesn't know who he is?"

"No. He's acutely aware of who he is. His gross cognitive abilities, language skills and balance all appear normal, however, his sense of time has been skewed. Perhaps you should see for yourself, but I'm not going to dip it in honey—this will be difficult for both of you.

"What can I do?"

"He won’t be able to see you, so just enter with me and observe. I'll have a short conversation with him, and you'll be able to assess his recall."

"Gods, all right. " Draco took a deep breath, and tried to remember how to pray.

~*~

The door made a soft swishing noise and was followed by two sets of footsteps. One set kept walking until Harry knew someone was in front of him, but the other person took their time getting through the door, their footfalls sounding a little disjointed.

Harry sat up on the bed and pulled his knees up to his chest. Even blind, it still bothered him that his brain and body didn’t seem to match up. He remembered how it had felt before, how he used to have no trouble resting his chin on top of his knees or wrapping his arms around. Now the position just felt awkward. He felt like an elephant trying to hide in a miniature village. Maybe his... Well, maybe whatever it was that caused Harry to do wonky things from time to time had finally gone haywire. Had he wished at some point to be bigger, and it had just happened?

For the past few hours, questions had been flying around in his mind: _Will doctors know how to fix me? Will they throw me out? Have they rung the Dursleys? What do I tell Uncle Vernon when he asks about how I ended up in here?_

"Good afternoon, Mr Potter."

Harry stiffened, but tried to relax once he recognised the voice. He liked the smooth tone and the kindness underneath. “You can call me Harry."

"Yes, of course, Harry. Do you remember my name?"

"Doctor… _Attwater, Atwoll, At…something!_ Attwood?"

"Very good! Excellent memory! Sweet?"

The sound of the crinkling wrapper was easy to locate. Harry nodded and held out his hand. "Yes, thanks."

"And how are you feeling now?"

"All right. My eyes are itchy."

"Understandable, and they will be for a while longer. I'm afraid there's nothing too much to be done about that, but you mustn't scratch."

"I'll try."

“Anything else?”

“Er... My thoughts are still fuzzy, like looking through a waterfall.”

"That might take a little longer than the eyes to sort, but I wouldn't worry overmuch. I want you to rest as much as possible. Oh, Harry," he said, as if he'd suddenly been hit with a thought. "One of the clerks seems to have misplaced the information you gave us earlier. Would you mind if I took it down again quickly?"

"Sure."

"Can you tell me your address?"

"Number four Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey."

"And whom do you live with?"

"My aunt Petunia, my uncle Vernon and my cousin, Dudley."

"How old are you, Harry."

They hadn't asked him that the first time. He wanted to answer truthfully, but he also knew what the doctor could see—a grown man sitting in front of him on the bed. He took a chance and hoped he wouldn't find himself in the place they keep the chaps who have gone mental.

"Nearly eleven.” _I think_

He'd all but forgotten about the second set of feet when the other man in the room inhaled sharply, choked on his breath and left the room in a hurry. Something clattered to the floor.

Harry wondered if he'd made a big mistake. "Who was that?"

"Oh, I'm sorry I didn't get to introduce you. That was Healer Malfoy."

"Is he okay?"

"Not to worry, my boy. He's just gone through a bit of a shock today. I'm sure he'll be right as Ravenclaw in no time. "

 _Ravenclaw?_ "Oh. That's good, then." He suddenly noticed how hungry he was, and wondered just how long his hospital stay would last. "Um, sir?" he paused, not knowing how to continue. There was never an easy way to admit…

"Yes, Harry?"

"You should probably ring my relatives to come get me now. I don't know how much this all costs, but I know whatever it is, my uncle won't want to pay it—not for me, anyway, but once I'm well, I can come back and work off..." A warm hand squeezed his shoulder.

"You just relax. All that's been taken care of. This room is your temporary home until you're properly healed. Food will come, regardless, but if you would like anything else, just ask. Would a little music help, or someone your own age to chat with?"

"There're other kids here?" He thought it might be great to talk with another boy, anyone really, but then again, he didn't suppose they'd want to sit and visit with someone double their size.

"Certainly."

"Dr Atwood, what happened to my ribs? They were really bad, but now… And why am I…big? Sorry for asking, but sometimes weird things just happen around me, and I don't know why."

"You're worried, I know. Let's just say we knew how to fix your side, and we did. Your eyes need a tick longer, but they'll be fine again soon enough. As for the other, we're just as baffled as you are, that's why we're hoping to keep you here, safe and well-fed," he playfully tapped a finger against Harry's stomach. "At least until we figure out if this is all temporary or not. There's an ocean's worth of other information we need to share with you, but I believe it would be better if you rested tonight and we begin fresh in the morning with Heal… Doctor Malfoy."

Harry wasn't sure he wanted to meet the man who'd run off, but since Doctor Attwood had been more than decent, he figured he'd trust the recommendation and at least try to be polite to the new man. "What's he like?"

"Comes across a little sharp with his humour, but he's a fine physician, one of the best I've ever worked with, honestly. Something tells me you'll get along like tea and sugar." He exhaled and hummed a bit as if he were getting ready to go. "All right, Harry. You get comfortable and I'll arrange for food and some music. Once your eyes are in the clear, we'll work on giving you a tour and some company, yes?"

"Yes, Thank you, sir."

"Rest well, Harry."

Before the door had finished its closing swish, Harry heard Doctor Attwood call someone over. He couldn't pick out everything, but he was certain he heard the words: potion, tea and security.

He stretched out on the bed and realised that even as large as he was, this bed fit him perfectly. It was wonderful and strange all at once. He thought he should probably feel uneasy, or at least slightly homesick for his familiar surroundings, but truth be told, he wasn't afraid at all—maybe a little lonely, but he'd always been that.

He could smell it the moment his food arrived, and Harry's stomach gave a rumble of anticipation. He couldn't remember the last time he'd eaten anything, but his body was telling him it had been long enough. He was a bit clumsy with the cutlery, but the young woman who brought the meal told him where everything was on the tray, and told him it was perfectly fine to use his fingers to explore the plate. When he'd cleared the last of the chocolate square and the refreshingly cold juice that tasted like sweet squash, he was too tired to be embarrassed by how much his stomach could hold.

He settled down into the bed. It took a moment to find a position that didn't push at his eye shield, but once he did, sleep took him quickly.

~*~


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It wasn't the answer Harry had expected, but it did make some sense. He tried to push past the panic and puzzle it out the way someone older might, to show Healer Malfoy that he could take the shock with grace. It seemed more likely that he would be a man suffering from memory loss, rather than a boy who'd aged several years overnight, still, it was hard to sort out.

~*~

The fire-call indicator lamp on the mantel changed its glow from pale yellow to deep red. Draco watched it cycle through again and again. So far, eight reds - eight calls he'd ignored all because he couldn't pull himself away from the serious business of going mad. He knew someone would eventually turn up to check if he still had a heartbeat, perhaps one of the Aurors who followed him home, the ones he wasn’t supposed to notice. It wouldn't do to let a now-respected Healer of St Mungo's drink himself into unproductiveness.

Yellow. Red. Yellow.

Nine.

He numbly poured another glass of whatever he'd summoned from the cabinet and took stock of his day. He was bone-tired, heart-weary and uncertain of how to continue, given Harry's _complications._ He also wanted to kick himself for not having the strength to stay—for bolting like some fresh out of training junior Healer who'd lost his lunch after seeing a fatal splinching.

_Harry would have stayed for me._

The shock of hearing Harry declare his age had worn off sometime after leaving the hospital room, but not before he'd realised he'd missed the hospital Floo chamber altogether and had walked out onto the wet streets of London without a cloak or hat. He didn't remember how he'd gotten home, but once he was there, it turned out to be the last place he wanted to be.

Memories of Harry covered every inch of their home. Five years of tea in the kitchen every morning and Harry's horrible Muggle films every Friday night—fights, talks, laughter, mistakes and compromises.

Love. 

The terrible thought that it might all be over, hit Draco like a fist. 

He remembered the days after the war and the looks of disgust from both the Dumbledore supporters and the remnants of Death Eater families. He thought that being young and having the weight of his parent’s lives on his shoulders would have merited him a fraction of pity in the hearts of those who stood against Voldemort, but everyone saw a traitor, everyone except Potter. Once out on conditional release, Draco had swallowed his pride and cornered Harry at the Ministry after one of the many trials.

_“I don’t know why you did it, but thank you.”_

_”Your mother changed the course of the war. People needed to know.”_

_“And why did you speak up for me?”_

_Harry took a step back and studied him. “You want to spend the rest of your life in Azkaban?”_

_“Of course not, but I was... You don’t know what I…”_

_Harry closed the gap between them and lowered his voice. “Yes, I do.”_

_Draco felt all the blood leave his face as he remembered Potter confessing to being on the tower the night the vanishing cabinet transported Death Eaters into Hogwarts. A sudden hand on his arm made him stiffen in alarm._

_“Dumbledore knew you wouldn’t kill him,” Harry whispered. “I know he would have wanted to see you become who you were meant to be. So, Malfoy, here’s your chance, if you’re man enough to take it.”_

And with that, Potter left him standing there.

Draco had been preparing himself for a probable life of solitude - the life of an outcast, but Harry’s words had sparked something within him. He made the decision to make the most of his second chance, no matter what it cost him, and perhaps take another look at Potter without being told what he should see.

Eventually, he had scraped his life back together, chosen a career path, and struck up an unlikely friendship with Harry over a chance meeting at a Quidditch match one drizzly November afternoon. 

If anyone had told Draco that the new friendship would turn into attraction and later to love, he would have examined their brains for curse damage, but it had happened - all of it - and their new life together had been more than Draco had ever expected to deserve.

Draco tried to pull himself away from his thoughts and focus on a solution, a way to get Harry back without damaging his mind, but the mix of grief and the heady burn of alcohol only offered up a bitterness that was hard to fight off.

White-hot anger sparked from the unfairness of the whole situation. Suddenly, he was aware of the beautiful way every fragile item in their home rang out with a high-pitched note before shattering in unison. He felt the sting of hundreds of tiny glass kisses across his skin and through his hair just before his knees gave out and shame overwhelmed him.

He healed himself despite being nearly blind from tears and tried to put the house back to rights—the way Harry had left it.

Draco's eyes landed on the faded green leather chair in the corner. It was a housewarming present; Muggle, but George had _improved_ it with a bonding charm to make Harry feel welcomed when he lounged around in it. The thing was harmless, for the most part, but it had taken such a shine to Harry that it wouldn't tolerate anyone else near it. The first time Harry had invited Draco over to his place—about a month into their relationship—Draco made the mistake of leaning against it while Harry was fetching drinks. The chair vanished out from under him, causing Draco to free-fall down onto his elbow. Harry added to the offense by spilling the tray of drinks over him in a failed attempt to _help_. However, once Harry was down on the floor next to him, Draco made sure they both stayed there. They'd made love for the first time, brandy-soaked clothes and all, and he had that stupid chair to thank for it.

And now, staring at the pulsing lamp, the sadness seemed to swallow him whole. There was a stranger—with a boy’s mind—where the man he loved used to be. Draco remembered how it had felt, standing right there, so close to Harry and not being able to touch him, hold him the way he had wanted to…

_He doesn't even know who I am. In his mind, we've never met._

A stab of pain down his leg pulled him from his thoughts and back to the problem at hand. He rubbed his twitching hip and muttered a healing spell to slow inflammation and act as ice on the tender spot. He thought he also might try some of that new ointment for deep-tissue treatment that Hermione had used when…

Draco looked at the lamp again and felt a pang of guilt. He had been so focused on his own suffering that he had forgotten there were others who loved Harry as much as he did, others who wouldn't be informed of Harry's condition until St Mungo's had Draco's permission. His stomach flipped. He didn't have enough strength of will left to face them on his own, so he tried the next best thing. It took several attempts before his Patronus took form and snapped its black beak impatiently at him.

~*~

_Harry wandered the dark, narrow halls and looked for something familiar, something to guide him from the depressing house he was trapped in. Identical doors lined the walls with strange paintings hanging in the space between. He stopped in front of one and tried to puzzle out what was happening._

_A deeper degree of wrongness hit when Harry realised the image was moving, cycling through a few different scenes. In the first, a toddler with messy dark hair flew around on a small broom as a cat ran to avoid him. Next, a giant wall filled the frame. A tiny hole appeared and slowly grew larger until it formed an opening that led to a vibrant street scene filled with cloaked people of all ages shopping for items and mulling happily about. Many of them were carrying animals and presenting them to their children. Harry thought most of the caged creatures seemed like poor choices for pets._

__Who would want a toad or a rat? Not like you can cuddle them…_ _

_The colours ran together to create the final image. It was Harry, himself, or at least it appeared that way. The resemblance was uncanny except he was dressed in a dark cloak and his glasses weren’t broken. He looked about the same age, maybe just a little bit older than he was now, and waving a short stick—a magic wand—and the tip of it began to glow. The light was soft at first, but kept growing until both Harrys had to look away from the blinding light. He heard the painted Harry say something that sounded like 'Knocks', before they were both plunged into darkness._

~*~

Draco rubbed his gritty eyes. He felt like a Deathday party and probably smelled worse. He had somehow managed to fall asleep in Harry's armchair, which was puzzling, since the great, green thing had never allowed him to sit in it before. By all rights, he should have woken up on the rug.

He shakily pulled himself up, whispered a thank you to the chair for good measure and tried to mentally prepare himself for the tasks awaiting him. Even a Healer in crisis was still required to report in, but numb as he was, Draco couldn't see much point in pretending to do any work. He would go in for Harry—tackle going back into that room, even though it would take more strength than he had left.

After a long shower and a few extra swallows of hangover potion, Draco still looked like he'd wandered out of one pub too many the night before. He tried a few spells to bring some colour back to his face and erase the weariness, but there was still a pitiful, sad man staring back out from the mirror when he was done.

 

Ron, Hermione and Molly were huddled outside the room with Erastus, speaking in whispers and sharing that look of miserable discomfort that Draco saw daily on the faces of his patient's family members. This was worse. Due to a force they all called Harry, these people, even Ron, had somehow become Draco's family as well. He felt instant guilt for sending his Patronus instead of delivering the news in person. How many times had Draco warned others of the dangers of grieving alone? He took a deep breath and kicked himself for being too damn stubborn to take his own good advice.

Molly looked up and was suddenly on the move. She had her arms around him before he could make any claims of being _fine_. "Oh, Draco."

He patted her on the shoulder and wished that several of his colleagues, as well as the Aurors posted by Harry's door, were not looking on. She pulled back and lifted up on tiptoes to take his face in her hands. Hermione and Ron stayed planted in front of Harry's room, but they both gave Draco a knowing half-smile.

"You look like you haven't had a wink of sleep. How about tea? Let me bring you a cup."

Snacks and beverages were of no charge for the staff, but Draco fished out a few coins and let her fuss over him anyway.

She stepped back, but reached out for his hand. "And Harry… when can we see him, dear?"

Draco glanced at his boss who gave a minute shake of his head. "Not quite yet, Molly. What has Healer Attwood told you about Harry's status this morning?"

"He said Harry would have his vision back tomorrow and physically, that he's as healthy as can be, but for now, he only remembers being a Muggle boy."

Draco wasn't surprised, but the news still stung. He knew it was foolish to believe Harry might have recovered all of his memories overnight, but love didn't seem to ever be one for following the rules of propriety. "Alright. I need to check up on him myself, but once I do, I'll be thankful for that cup."

She gave him the warm smile she usually reserved for Harry—the one she gave her children. "Of course. I'll be back before you can say Quidditch."

~*~

After breakfast, Harry had done his best to wash his hands and face without bumping the eye shield or soaking it too badly. Dr Attwood promised him it would be off tomorrow, so he tried his best not to poke at it. It was six steps to the bathroom and six back. He had started measuring the distance between his bed and several things in his room after the dream had left him unable to sleep any longer. He'd even tried listening to the music headphones until he felt sleepy again, but it didn't work—the images, the magical scenes just kept replaying in his head.

He sat in the chair beside the bed and pulled his knees up. His too-big feet didn't fit on the seat, so he dropped them to the floor just as he heard the door creak. He sat up straight at the sound of the familiar uneven footsteps.

"Dr Malfoy?"

Silence filled the room, so Harry figured he must have had it wrong. "Sorry, I thought you were…"

"No. That's right, I'm Healer Malfoy. Sorry I didn't get to properly meet you yesterday."

"Oh, 'salright. I'm Harry."

"Pleased to meet you." Harry listened as the man walked closer and sat down across from Harry. "Just curious, how did you know it was me?"

"You sound the same as yesterday, like you're limping."

"Ah, well, that's because I am. Got hit with—something nasty in the hip recently, but It will be healed by tomorrow, as long as I don't get trampled by something large and ill tempered in the next few hours."

 _Everybody heals so quickly around here_ , Harry thought. He remembered his conversation with Dr Attwood the night before, and realised that he hadn't addressed why Harry was suddenly wearing a much larger body, only that they had known how to heal his injuries and that he was a bit of a mystery. He hoped Dr Malfoy might be more helpful. "Er… May I ask you something?"

"Certainly."

"I asked Dr Attwood yesterday, but he didn't really give me a full answer."

"He's probably holding back the really good answers until you pay for the sweets he's been sneaking you."

"Oh, well I… What?" Heat rushed to Harry's face.

"Relax, Harry. I know you're not familiar with me, and have nothing to base trust on, but please know that you can ask me anything. I'll try to keep my stunning wit to a minimum."

Even with embarrassment still warming his face, Harry believed him. He took a breath and tried again. "I've noticed that I'm… Well, I haven't been here all that long, and except for my eyes, I feel great—fine—brilliant, really, but it feels…" He stopped short, as an image of his Aunt Petunia's tomato-red face, on the morning after giving Harry one of her brutally short haircuts, popped into his mind. She never understood how he was able to grow it all back overnight.

"I remember my side hurting so much in the cave that I couldn't touch it, and my hands were all cut up on the rocks. Now I can't feel any of that, not even a scratch. _Most_ people don't normally recover that fast, do they?"

"Have you've noticed other things here at St Mungo's that are different from a Mugg… from another hospital you've visited before?"

"A few things, yeah. I have to talk to the music headphones—tell them how loud to play. My teacup vanished while I was still holding it, and the words I hear people use here are different too: 'Healers', 'potions' and 'charm-damage'. I’ve lost it, haven’t I?"

Dr… Healer Malfoy chuckled. "You're not mad, Harry."

"Oh, good."

"But I'd be lying if I said you were fully healed. There's a reason you're here, and unfortunately it has to do with more than your psychical health."

"It's because of this, isn't it?" Harry stretched out his arms and then lowered them back to the armrests. "Everyone's been nice enough, but I think it's odd that nobody has mentioned that I'm a little big for eleven."

"They've seen stranger things, trust me."

Harry laughed at the smile he could hear in Healer Malfoy's voice. For some reason, it made him feel a little more comfortable. He wasn't sure how much more he should trust the man with, but Harry was sick of being alone. If Malfoy could give him answers, Harry was willing to take the chance.

"I keep thinking that maybe I ate something, like Alice did, and that's why I'm big, or maybe I insulted a witch…"

"You believe in witches?"

"Er… I'm starting to believe in a lot of things after last night. I had a dream, but it seemed so real."

"Like a memory?"

"Was it?"

"It could be. What do you remember?"

"Flying brooms, magic wands and a secret city hidden right here in London! It was so real. I was looking at a picture, but it was moving. The first two didn't have sound, but the last one… I was watching myself light up a magic wand. I said a word to make it glow brightly and a different word to turn it off."

The room became silent. Harry's courage started to waver. He could hear Healer Malfoy breathing, deep and even. He was just about to laugh it up and pretend he'd invented the whole thing when he heard movement. Suddenly Malfoy was very close, and if the muttered complaints were anything to go by, kneeling on sore knees in front of him.

"You're remembering," Malfoy said, his voice almost a whisper.

Harry tried to put it all together, but there were still so many pieces missing. His mind told him that he'd never held a wand before, but he could, somehow, remember the feel of the wood under his fingertips and form the words on his lips that would fill the room with light.

He pulled himself from his thoughts and realised they were straying again from what he truly wanted to know. "You know what happened to me, don't you?"

There was a long exhale, and Harry could almost feel the struggle Healer Malfoy was having. He imagined that since most doctors took up the job to help people, they wouldn't like the part that required them to deliver bad news.

"It's ok, Harry said, shrugging. "Whatever it is, it can't be worse than what I'm living with now."

"What do you mean?"

Harry shrugged. "My relatives. I'm a waste of space, didn't they tell you?"

It took a moment before Malfoy answered. "No, I didn't speak with them." After a long, shaky exhale, he continued. "Harry, your aunt and uncle are not a part of your life anymore, and you only see your cousin on Christmas Day - once a year."

"No. I still live with…" Harry searched for his memories and pulled up a memory of Dudley pushing worms under Harry's door. "I sleep under…" but the moment he said it, the image of his cupboard door began to shift and fade.

"The stairs. Yes, you _did._ "

"How did you… Have you been there?" He stopped himself and took another deep breath. He tried not to fall apart when he was so close to getting answers.

"Harry, are you alright?"

The voice was calm and caring, but Harry flinched without meaning to. He nodded silently to try and save face. Healer Malfoy was very close and sounded so concerned, but Harry wasn't used to so much kindness. His face was suddenly warm for no reason and his mind felt fuzzy. He tried to remember what they had just been talking about.

"Should we change the subject for a while?"

"No, I'm alright," he said, even though the conflicting information made his mind spin. "Has it got something to do with magic, what I can do—what's happening? It's why I can't remember everything you're telling me about my life, right?"

A warm hand covered his own, and without reason, Harry held on to it like a lifeline. The skin was soft, not how he had imagined a doctor's hands would be, what with them having to wash so often. _But if this is a magical place, then there's probably another way to keep hands clean,_ he thought. Harry's mind whirled with half-answered questions, glowing wands and a sweet, spicy scent that was both new and familiar. The hand gave a light squeeze and Malfoy gently reminded him to breathe. Harry released the breath he'd been holding but stayed quiet in the hopes that he'd get an answer soon.

"The problem we're facing, is that you believe that you're an eleven-year-old boy wearing a man's body, but that's not who you really are." He paused, as if knowing Harry needed a moment. Someone laughed out in the corridor and Harry barely heard it over the pounding in his chest. He lightly squeezed Malfoy's hand to make him continue, because the words wouldn't come.

"You haven't been a boy for a long time, Harry," he said, gently. "However that is, unfortunately, where your brain has decided to keep you for the moment."

It wasn't the answer Harry had expected, but it did make some sense. He tried to push past the panic and puzzle it out the way someone older might, to show Healer Malfoy that he could take the shock with grace. It seemed more likely that he would be a man suffering from memory loss, rather than a boy who'd aged several years overnight, still, it was hard to sort out.

"It's like a train, then? I'll keep making stops until I hit the station where the rest of my memories are?"

"Truthfully, I'm not sure, but the specialists have said that's the case for most patients who have more typical types of memory loss. You'll probably get a jumbled mix of images, scents and emotions for a while."

Harry took a breath, released Malfoy's hand and tried to sound steady. "So, how old am I?"

Malfoy shifted his weight as if to leave. "We should take a break now. I've given you more than…"

Frustrated, Harry raised his voice. "If you go now, I'll pester everyone who comes in here until somebody tells me!"

"You've lost eighteen years of memories."

Harry's chest grew tight while his heart picked up a faster pace. He involuntarily tightened his grip on the armrests. "I'm twenty-nine?"

Malfoy cursed at himself, and then lowered his voice. "I'm sorry. You weren't ready."

Harry ignored the apology. "How? How does that happen?" A sudden wave of loss overwhelmed him and he felt warm tears soak into his eye shield. _Eighteen years!_ His body shivered. All that life, so much time, and he couldn't remember… "It's all got to do with magic—the cave, the healing, this stupid low voice?"

"I think that's enough for now," Healer Malfoy said, calmly, as if he were stepping around an injured tiger. He took Harry's hand and gave it another gentle squeeze before pulling back. "I have someone waiting for me with a cup of tea. What would you say to three lumps and a splash?"

Harry reached out until he found Malfoy's hand again. "I don't want tea. Please, I need to know. It's real, isn't it?"

Healer Malfoy sighed and whispered something Harry couldn't decipher before he said, "Yes, Harry, magic is real. You were hit with a spell—a curse that caused this mess. We've got the finest Healers working on a solution, but your situation appears to be…unique."

Harry swallowed and tried to get a hold of his emotions. "I wish I could see right now."

The sound of fabric rustling brought Harry's attention back to Malfoy. "Here, hold this."

Malfoy handed him a stick. He explored it from base to tip. He gripped it around the bottom and felt it warm to his touch. "Is this a wand?"

"Yes. It’s your wand. Put the tip in your hand and say _Gelum_."

Harry obeyed and jumped as a stream of icy wind shot against his palm. He laughed once the shock wore off. "A real magic wand," he said, in awe.

"Yes, and no. The wand is a magical object, but it's the wizard who holds the magic."

The reality of the situation sank in. "I'm a wizard." It went against everything the Dursleys had ever taught him, but even as he said the words, he knew they were true.

"Yes, Harry," Malfoy said, sounding proud of his discovery. "You inherited your magic from your parents. You have the ability to cast spells, fly on brooms and are able to see a world where dragons, pixies and vampires are real."

Hundreds of impossible images swam around in Harry's mind. "But I'm, I'm just… Really?"

"You're also rather famous in our world, but I don't want to give you any more to process today. You're going to be up all night with what I've already told you." He made another attempt to pull away, but Harry held tight. Malfoy inhaled shakily and touched Harry's cheek with his free hand. Harry's heart leapt at the touch, but he had no idea why. "Your dreams are a good sign, Harry. It means your memories aren't lost, just locked away somewhere. That gives us a solid place to start."

"So, I'm older, and a wizard, but I'm still Harry Potter?"

The warm laughter took Harry by surprise, but it was worth it for the firm pat on the shoulder he received.

"There was never a doubt."

~*~ 

Draco's tea break with Molly, Ron and Hermione took longer than he had expected, but shorter than he deserved for his lack of tact with the Patronus the night before. He'd also let the first cups go cold while losing track of time with Harry. They understood his state of mind, all having dealt with grief before, but he wasn't as quick to forgive himself. He took his time filling them in on as many details as he was allowed, answered their questions and listened patiently while Hermione, in her ever over-protective way, ordered him to get more sleep and warned him not to confuse Harry with too much physical contact.

He left them with another hug for Molly, an invitation to return the next morning. _"No more than three or four of you at first. If his rate of recovery is typical, he will probably have more memory dreams tonight and should be able to recognise you, or at least he may remember the younger versions of you. And take Teddy. He can handle it, and I think it'll be good for Harry."_

Draco felt he'd held together relatively well during the visit with Harry, but was unsure enough of his emotional threshold to opt out of being present when Erastus removed the shield and gave Harry back his sight. The more he thought about the Healer/patient charade he was playing with the man he loved, the more Draco considered stepping out of his conflict of interest and into the more appropriate realm of grieving spouse—but, no. He wouldn't trust Harry to just anyone. The security risk alone was high on the list for Draco wanting to stay right where he was—as close to Harry as possible.

With security measures on his mind, he gave a short nod to the Auror posted across the lane from their house. Everyone close to Harry had been given extra protection since the _incident_ , which—while understandable—made Draco feel more observed and irritated than protected.

At home, he looked around their bedroom and found the ache wasn't as bad as it had been the night before. He even had the strength to fold some clean clothes Harry had draped over the end of the bed a few nights ago.

Harry had come out of the shower and into the bedroom looking too delicious to take out on the town, so Draco had told him there wouldn't be a need for the dress shirt and trousers any longer. Harry, being Harry, tossed them near the bed in his hurry to embrace the new diversion.

Draco closed his eyes and remembered.

The towel was no match for a determined seeker. Draco had whipped it away and pressed himself against Harry's hips before his skin had time to cool. Harry laughed and made a comment about Draco being far too overdressed for the occasion.

Then there was no more talking only the familiar soft welcome of lips before hands travelled of their own free will and the outside world vanished. They'd started a thousand kisses in the same way—a bit of play and then a lot of heat. Halfway was never an option with either of them. There were moments when taking their time was an exquisite way to pass a Sunday afternoon, but with Harry's tendency to seize the dragon by the horns, more often than not, their love-making tended to be creative, vocal, and intense, which Draco didn't mind a bit.

He loved the strength of Harry's arms and hands, and the possessive way he gripped Draco's waist while pushing him in the direction of the bed that night. He watched again in his mind the slide of their bodies, felt the dance of their hearts pressed together as they found release and remembered the word Harry whispered before he fell asleep:

"Perfect."

It was the last time they'd made love.

Suddenly cold, Draco placed Harry's clothes on the dresser and wandered into the bathroom.

~*~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * one chapter a day will be posted until all 10 chapters are up!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Healer Malfoy nodded and then went back to his notes to make a few more entries. They sat in silence for a while until a thought struck Harry. "I've remembered a bit more and I've had another dream, but it's not a memory this time."**
> 
> **Malfoy looked up and leaned forward. "How do you know?"**
> 
> **Harry shrugged. "Because I died."**

Harry pressed his hands against the cool surface of the sink and took a few deep breaths to chase away the slight headache behind his eyes. The morning had flown by in a rush of tests, questions and visits by people he was just beginning to remember. In all the commotion and over-stimulation of getting his eyes back, he hadn't yet taken a good look at himself. 

A man stared back at Harry from the bathroom mirror. His eyes were the same, just older and a bit watery from adjusting to light again. His skin looked like he still spent a lot of time outdoors, but the small lines and faint sunspots on his face were new. His fringe hung the way it had always done, mostly in place over his scar with a few stubborn bits going off in their own direction. He ran his fingers over the stubble-covered chin and took a few steps back. 

He suddenly realised how much he looked like his dad and wished he could remember more from the short time he'd spent with his parents. Hermione had shown him a few pictures of his mum and dad that she had let him keep, one of himself, Ron and Hermione at school, several of Ron's family, one of Hagrid, and a book each of Teddy and Rose.

Little glimpses of his life were coming back to him, but the experience was like catching a soap bubble – as soon as he was close enough to make out any detail the images would vanish. The only solid thing he had to hold on to was the word of others, and a faint headache, but he supposed it would have to be enough for now.

Removing his shirt revealed lean, but strong arms, a mostly-flat stomach and the necklace with the ring resting against his chest – he made a mental note to ask Mrs Weasley about it next time, since he'd forgotten – as well as a soft trail of hair that began around his navel and disappeared under the waistband of his hospital trousers.

Groping around in the dark on trips to the toilet was one thing, but now that he had two perfectly good eyes again, Harry couldn't resist pulling his pants forward to have a real look. The elastic snapped back into place and Harry gave his mirror-self a look that was a mixture of shock and victory.

~*~

"I have a question to ask," Draco said bluntly as he entered his office.

"And I have dust on my frame," said a humourless voice.

"My apologies, Severus," Draco snapped, irritated. "I've been preoccupied with my husband being attacked and all – won't happen again." He sunk into the leather chair, propped his elbows on the mahogany desk and dropped his head into his hands.

"Without your presence, I had to resort to seeking second-hand information on Potter's condition."

"What are they saying?"

"Nonsense, as always. The portraits down in Spell Damage are all embellishing gossips."

The fight left Draco as he glanced up at the portrait and saw an expression that, for Snape, passed for genuine concern. "He looks and sounds the same, except nearly two decades of his memories are missing. He's regained a few flashes of who he is—was, but he doesn't know who I am."

Snape strolled toward the painted tree in the forefront of the pastoral landscape and studied Draco. "Which brings us to your conundrum?"

Suddenly curious, Draco got up and walked closer to the frame. "Can you still perform Occlumency?"

Snape lifted an eyebrow. "And why do you think I would part with that information?"

Draco shook his head and choked out a short laugh. "Fine. Keep your secrets." He ran a hand through his hair and paced slowly. "Harry will be able to see me when I visit him in a few minutes. There's a solid chance he still won't recognise me, but if he recalls any more of Hogwarts – which he's doing, according to the reports – he might make the connection."

"All the better for you, I would think."

Draco spun toward Snape. "Not if he remembers who I _was_ , not who I am now."

Severus brushed a fallen leaf off of his shoulder. "Are you not both?"

"You know what I mean, you old…"

Snape raised a finger to stop Draco's insult. "Now, is that any way to treat someone you haven't dusted in…"

"Fine." Draco swept his hand in an arch over the portrait. "Purgo Pulverem!"

"About time."

Draco gave up any hope of advice and turned to leave. "Alright, then. Don't wait up."

"Borrowed memories might suffice until he is able to recover his own," Severus offered.

Draco felt his brow wrinkle up. "Borrowed from where?"

"From those who've known him the longest," Snape said as he trained his black eyes on Draco. "…and from the ones who know him best."

"I'll run that past the team. It's brilliant, Severus, but I'm not sure if it will do more harm than good at this point. Erastus feels too much recall too soon may cause a curse backlash."

Snape took a seat on the scrolled iron bench under the tree. "And where exactly did he study curse-breaking?"

"The Aurors agree with him."

"And where do you stand?"

"I'd give Harry every memory I have of him, even if he never spoke to me again, but if my efforts – however noble or selfish – caused his condition to worsen or become permanent…" Draco couldn't finish his thought out of fear that it might come true.

Snape stood. "A old fool once said _'Don't panic when you see a giant's shadow – it just may turn out to be an elf in a large hat'_."

Draco took a step back, confused. "You’re beginning to sound like Dumbledore. Can portraits turn senile?"

Snape raised his chin. "It means don't agonize without cause."

"Well, thank you for that first year lesson, but I have a patient to see." Disappointed in himself for expecting an earth-shatteringly clever solution from a painting, Draco gathered his papers and turned to leave.

"Draco."

Snape said his name with enough weight to slow Draco's exit. He put a hand on the door frame and looked back at Severus standing at the base of the tree, leaves chasing each other around the bottom of his dark cloak.

"Regardless of what he recollects – or which part of you he remembers – you won't lose him forever."

"How could you know that?" Draco asked in a whisper.

"Potter never could hate properly, even when he had just cause."

Draco nodded as he touched the ring resting under his shirt. "Fortunately for us."

 

~*~

When Healer Malfoy entered with a warm 'good afternoon', an armful of clothes and a tea tray following him in mid-air, Harry could have kissed his feet.

"Brilliant!"

"Well, that's the warmest welcome I've had in a while," he said while Harry smiled and accepted the clothes gratefully. "You get out of those pyjamas and we'll have a cup."

"Sounds good," Harry said, ducking into the bathroom and leaving the door open a crack. He pulled a faded black t-shirt over his head and was surprised by the instant comfort it brought. "Wow. Where did you get these? They fit really well."

"In a minute. Business first. How are your eyes?"

Harry fastened the jeans and finished with a grey zip-up jumper. It was a vast improvement. He took a quick peek through the space in the door and had to admit that his eyes were working just fine. Healer Malfoy sat at a table that hadn't been there a minute ago directing the tea tray to land silently down in the middle. Seeing him for the first time wasn't the surprise Harry thought it would be. He looked a lot like the new clothes felt: easy, secure, and a little worn. Harry pulled away from the door when his stomach gave a strange lurch.

"My eyes?’ he called back over his shoulder. “Good. I mean, it's weird finally seeing magic at work – not just in my memories - and meeting people who know more about me than I do, but anything is better than being in the dark." He didn't see any socks, so he reached again for his hospital slippers. He decided to leave his pyjamas in a pile on the floor and walked back into the room. "I've always worn glasses, but Healer Atwood said that my vision was corrected a few years ago. Feels strange without them, though, like I've lost a friend."

Malfoy nodded and bit his lip, looking thoughtful. "I could conjure you some frames if you'd feel more comfortable," he offered.

Harry waved him off. "It's alright. I think I'll try this for a while. Maybe if I look and act like the older me, it will help the memories to come back."

"It's worth a try, certainly. Biscuit?"

Harry popped one into his mouth as he took a seat. The biscuit looked plain when he picked it up, but it tasted like it was covered in raspberry jam. “Mmm, s’good.”

“How did your visits go this morning?” Healer Malfoy asked. He was smiling, but his eyes stayed focused on the notes he was holding.

“It was weird at first, Harry admitted. “Mrs Weasley hugged me like I’d come back from the dead or something,” he said, rubbing his still-tender ribs. 

Malfoy smiled with amusement, as if he’d been on the receiving end of one of her hugs as well. “Yes, well, you are like a son to her. Molly’s fierce about her family. How was it, meeting the rest?”

Hermione and Ron...” Harry searched for the words, but the rising emotion seemed to push them all out of his reach.

Malfoy put his papers aside and touched Harry’s hand briefly before changing his mind and pulling back. “I’m sorry I didn’t prepare you better yesterday.”

Harry shook his head as he remembered his two best friends walking into his room, hand in hand, looking so... “They have a daughter,” he said, still not believing it fully, even though he’d sat through an entire photo album of her first few years. “I’m glad they have a family, but I just can’t get my head around it. They’re so _old_.” He said the last part quietly, disbelief hanging in his tone as he rubbed his temples. The headache was beginning to creep back into the space behind his eyes, but he tried his best to ignore it.

“And Teddy?”

Harry lifted his head and grinned, the thought of Teddy refreshing him like his few memories of playing seeker for Gryffindor. “Do you know him? He’s really cool! We got along like brothers. I just had to try to forget that I’m supposed to be his godfather. It’s wicked how he can change into just about anything, isn’t it?”

“I hear it’s gotten him into trouble a few times,” Malfoy said with a short laugh, “but I think he’ll grow up into a fine young man. I thought you might enjoy his company.”

“I did. He said he’d come back in a few days, if I was still here.”

Healer Malfoy nodded and then went back to his notes to make a few more entries. They sat in silence for a while until a thought struck Harry. "I've remembered a bit more and I've had another dream, but it's not a memory this time."

Malfoy looked up and leaned forward. "How do you know?"

Harry shrugged. "Because I died."

"Tell me," Malfoy said, unfazed. He handed Harry a steaming cup of tea. Harry accepted the offered cup, took a sip and promptly forgot the question.

"This is incredible! What's in it?"

"Nothing out of the ordinary – Lady Grey, a splash of milk and three spoons of sugar."

Harry fought between drinking the entire cup in one, or sipping it slowly to make it last longer. "Well, it's brilliant."

"You're welcome," Malfoy said with a warm smile. "The dream?"

Harry felt that strange heat in his cheeks that only seemed to surface when Healer Malfoy was around. It was embarrassing, but not uncomfortable. "Yeah, sorry. I think I've forgotten a bit, but what I remember was that Voldemort had ripped his soul apart and hidden the pieces in things that were special to him—a ring, a cup, even his old diary, which I'd already ruined with a basilisk fang. That part with the diary was real – I think." He rubbed at the growing ache behind his eyes. "It's hard to keep everything straight."

"You're doing fine, Harry."

When he didn't say anything more, Harry looked up and found Malfoy looking concerned.

"What?"

"You’re in pain."

He started to say that he was just fine when Healer Malfoy's expression turned into something that told him he had better tell the truth. Harry gave in and nodded. "Headache. It's more annoying than anything - probably just from all the lights."

"Ater Lumina.” The overhead lights dimmed to a soft, dusky glow that was much easier on the eyes. It also made the room feel a lot smaller and much less like a hospital. “That better?"

"Yeah." Malfoy tapped his wand on the edge of Harry's teacup and a few drops of dark purple liquid trickled out. Harry stared down into the drink and found it looking suspiciously normal. "What'd you do to my tea?"

"Drink. It'll help with the headache." When Harry continued to look sceptical, Malfoy added, "Stop being a baby, Potter. It won't change the taste,"

Harry sniggered at the insult, and finished his cup. As the ache faded, he smiled his thanks and continued his story.

"Anyway, Ron, Hermione and I destroyed all these Horcruxes while Voldemort was attacking Hogwarts. He called me out to the forest, and I just went. I don't know why, but it felt like the right thing to do. Then he killed me. I stood there and didn't do anything to stop him. Next thing I know, Dumbledore is telling me I'm brave and good, and that I need to get on a train. Mad, right?"

Malfoy's eyes narrowed in concentration as he continued writing. "So, that makes you around seventeen now?"

"What? No, fourteen, maybe? That's what I wanted to tell you. I've remembered a tournament being set up that brought two other schools to Hogwarts. Oh, and I remember my magic now! Do you want to see? There was this time in second year when I had no clue about how to duel, but Professor Lockhart set me up with Malfoy. Hey, he's got the same last name as you, but he's horrible and stuck-up."

Malfoy sat up straight. "Wait. Harry, I think you need to…"

Harry polished off his tea and suddenly had a craving for another. “More tea, please?” he asked the table, losing focus on whatever Healer Malfoy had been trying to say. Harry sat back, once his cup had refilled itself, and took a sip. "You two actually look a lot alike. Do you know him?"

Even in the dim room, Malfoy's cheeks looked flushed. "Quite well," he said quietly.

Harry grabbed another biscuit. This one tasted like lemon. "Are you related to him?" he asked around the crumbs.

Malfoy stood up, turned his back and swore under his breath to the wall. When he turned back, he rubbed at the bridge of his nose, as if trying to chase away a sudden headache. The grey eyes met his, and Harry could finally see who was standing in front of him, as if the years were falling away like feather-light scales.

He could only stare.

Time had softened the angles, mellowed the harsh voice and created this _man_ in his room, but the eyes and the way his brow creased when he was under stress… Harry inwardly scolded himself for not seeing it sooner.

He left his chair as well, took a step back and lifted his chin. "You're him." Malfoy looked at Harry with sad eyes and gave a short nod. 

"You’re Draco," Harry whispered.

Malfoy closed his eyes and whispered, "Yes."

The chair suddenly seemed too far away, so Harry just sank to the floor where he was. Malfoy did the same against the wall. They sat there in silence for a while as Harry tried to make sense out of his somersaulting emotions.

"So, what do I do now? Are we enemies again? You're the one who takes care of me. I'm supposed to trust you, but you're a, I mean you were…" Harry closed his eyes and tried to separate the Malfoy he knew at school with the one sitting across from him. He opened his eyes and saw some of the same sadness and confusion reflected in Draco's expression. "The things you did, and the things you said at Hogwarts about Hermione, about me…"

Malfoy rubbed at his eyes again and swallowed before answering. He looked so sad that Harry had a hard time holding on to his anger.

"That was a long time ago, and if it's worth anything, I'm more than sorry, and I deeply regret nearly every moment. I wasn't like you at fourteen, Harry. It took me longer than it should have to pull my head out from the dragon dung and become my own man. If you get back the memories of your late teen years, I'm afraid you'll have even more reason to hate the boy I was." He paused until Harry met his eyes. "If you can believe it, you and I eventually became close friends." He laughed quietly, almost to himself. "Can you believe even Ron thinks of me as a brother now?"

Harry felt a smile begin. "That I'll have to see to believe."

Malfoy pulled himself off the floor and offered a hand to Harry who took it without hesitation.

Harry studied him. "You said you regret nearly everything?"

"I don't regret having met you."

Relief and confusion warred with each other as Harry processed the words. "Why?"

He pulled Harry to his feet wearing a crooked grin. "Because you messed up my life, Potter."

Harry laughed as he reluctantly let Draco's hand slip from his. "And that's the one thing you _don't_ regret?"

Draco summoned his papers and walked toward the door. Harry noticed he was no longer limping. "Best thing that ever happened to me," he said, as the door swung open.

“Wait! You’re coming back, right?”

Malfoy placed a hand on the doorframe. “Haven’t had enough of me for the day?”

“This is going to sound weird - now that I’ve remembered who you are - but you make all this...” he gestured at himself and then at the room in general. “...a lot easier to deal with.” Harry’s cheeks felt hot again. “I don’t feel so lost when you’re here.”

An odd expression that Harry couldn’t identify appeared briefly before Malfoy quickly pulled it into a professional-looking smile. “Tonight, then,” he said, before slipping out into the corridor.

It was a few long moments before Harry realised he was standing there smiling at a closed door.

~*~

That night, Draco had returned after dinner for a game of chess, a few questions and one quick experiment. He had pulled a shimmering strand from his mind, and they both watched as Harry broke the surface of the water after the ordeal of the Second Task, as seen from Draco’s point of view. It was a short scene, just long enough to see Ron and Gabrielle pulled from the water and to hear the jeers from Viktor’s camp when it was announced that Harry would be awarded second place. Although the experience of sharing someone else’s memory felt a little odd, it was encouraging for Harry to think that there might be more than one way of recovering his lost moments.

Everything had gone really well until Malfoy had left for the night. Once Harry had fallen asleep, it was if a dam of memories had burst. At first, it was a wash of faces, snippets of conversations and the din of battles he couldn't quite visualise. Next, the details came, as if thrown at him from all sides: the scent of Ron’s musty tent, the cold, smooth surface of the golden egg, the icy-sweet taste of the snow cakes at Bill's wedding, the wrestling bout with Dobby over wrinkled letters, the feel of Ginny's lips on his, the shriek of spells exploding through the air, the pounding of his heart in the rotting Shrieking Shack, Buckbeak’s sharp cry, and finally, the sight of Fred, motionless on the floor of the Great Hall.

Coming out of the dream, wasn’t the release Harry had been hoping for. Opening his eyes seemed to trigger an alarming amount of pain. He shut his eyes tight and clapped his hands to his head in fear that it would split apart if he let go. He didn’t remember calling for help, but soon there were others in the room with him - talking to him, to each other - but for Harry, his world had narrowed down to the lighting bolt that seemed to be striking him over and over. 

“He’s in backlash! You! Go wake Attwood!”

“...before he hurts himself. Foxlowe, administer the Hornad-Klepping potion. Double dose!”

“Mr Potter? Let go of your hair. That’s it, open your hands, dear.”

“Draco?” Harry called out, tears running from his eyes as a thick feeling of warmth travelled through him, taking the pain somewhere else as it moved. 

“You heard him - better wake Malfoy as well.”

In a few more heartbeats, Harry felt as if he was back under water, warm and swimming with the Merfolk in the Black Lake. He was aware of the water muffled voices above him, but he didn’t seem to care much for what they were saying. Nothing could be more important than diving deeper and deeper.

~*~


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **  
> "You know who's behind Harry's attack," Draco stated, calling on his acting skills to appear calmer than he felt.**
> 
> **Blaise crossed his legs and settled back into the chair looking slightly impressed. "So do you – you just don't know it yet."**

Draco stumbled out of the Floo network still wearing his pyjamas. He only slowed his frantic rush toward Harry's room when the smooth chill of marble on his bare feet became too much to ignore.

Shoes. 

He had a hurried debate with himself about whether or not to stop by his office for the spare pair he kept, or just charge ahead, cold feet and sanitation be damned. Professionalism and a shred of remaining sanity won out as he took the first left and passed a young witch he didn't know pushing a potions trolley toward the lab. She gasped, startled as he ran by, but to Draco's relief, she didn't trigger the alarms.

He pressed his palm to the door of his office and it opened silently for him. The room was dark, but the light from the hallway was enough to do the job. A quick glance up to the portrait on the back wall revealed a peaceful countryside, but no Severus.

Shoes on, and pyjamas hastily transfigured, Draco turned to leave. A man stood silhouetted in doorway. Before Draco could speak, the figure quickly stepped inside and pulled the door closed, plunging them both into darkness. Draco dove blindly toward the desk, hoping he had judged the distance correctly – not that it would offer much protection if his attacker started throwing curses. 

"Lumos," said the intruder. 

As the room filled with a soft glow, the calm, almost bored tone of voice triggered Draco's memory. He tried to steady his rapid breathing and chanced a peek around the side of his hiding place. "Blaise?"

Blaise was dressed from head to foot in black, and Draco noticed that he was now bald, but the look suited. Even with light shining out from his own wand, Blaise, with his dark skin and frozen posture seemed to almost disappear into the shadows behind him. "We need to talk."

Draco brushed himself off. His ring gently pulsed with warmth, reminding him why he was standing in his office in the middle of the night. His irritation grew.

"Poor time for a dramatic visit, Blaise. I need to check on a patient, and then you can talk all you like."

"This concerns him," he said, helping himself to a chair.

Draco righted his own chair and studied his former schoolmate with new scrutiny. He thought briefly about calling for the Aurors or possibly Severus, but changed his mind as an idea made its way into his thoughts. _Once a Slytherin…_

"You know who's behind Harry's attack," Draco stated, calling on his acting skills to appear calmer than he felt.

Blaise crossed his legs and settled back into the chair looking slightly impressed. "So do you – you just don't know it yet."

Draco drew his wand and stood to leave as he took the bluff one step further. "If you're done talking in riddles…" 

"He needs to be stopped, for his own good if nothing else."

Suddenly confused, Draco dropped his guard. "Harry? Was this an attempt to…"

"No, no. I don't believe it's anything personal—although…"

"Begin making some sense, or I'll have Aurors down here before you can…"

"It's Gregory."

Draco blinked. "Goyle? He can't walk and whistle a tune. What makes you think he's the one?"

"He told me – practically shouted it to the towers. We had business a while back, and he'd had a pint or two."

Draco lowered his wand and sat on the edge of his desk. He doubted Goyle was capable of planning an attack, but since it was the first lead to surface, Draco decided to hear Blaise out. "He's leading the Red Masks?"

"No. Yes." Blaise shrugged. "It's hardly even an organisation, just four or five idiots who have too much time on their hands and share his thirst to continue the war as best they can."

"Sounds like a pile of Doxie Droppings. Why would they…"

"How would I know? Between you and me, his broom never did fly straight. More than a few flobberworms have been missing from his barrel since your husband…"

"And where do you stand, Blaise? If I recall correctly, your family was conveniently missing at all the trials."

"I told you – I want Goyle stopped. I like my life and my endeavours to be organised. War is untidy and bad for business. Besides, he's an embarrassment – always has been, and you know it! ”

Draco swallowed and tried to rein in his anger. Blaise's less than legal _business_ had been a thorn in Harry's side for nearly four years. Worse than the legal issues, were the injuries and poisonings Draco dealt with as a result of Blaise's livelihood. 

“And how is the underground blood-potion trade treating you?” Draco asked flatly.

Blaise exhaled and ran a hand over his smooth head. “This isn’t about me, Malfoy. True, Potter and his friends make it hard for an alternative business man to turn much of a profit at times, but after reading about his condition in the Prophet, I thought you had a right to know which direction to point the Aurors.”

"You could be working with Goyle, using his underlings and Harry's injury to draw the Aurors away from paying too much attention to your own interests." Draco waited, his anger simmering, but Blaise refused to bite at the bait.

"I would have thought you'd be more grateful for my part in helping your husband."

"I am grateful, grateful I'm not obtuse enough to swallow your story whole. I haven't seen you in years, Blaise, and yet here you are with a helpful hint served up on a plate of what, compassion for Harry Potter? How do I know you're not the one behind the new masks and not Goyle?”

"You don't." Blaise stood, eyes showing emotion for the first time. "Take it or leave it. If you consider that I entered a hospital crawling with Aurors to give you this information, that might help you believe my motives." He paused and lowered his voice. "True, I won't be buying any Potter memorabilia, but you and I were good friends once. I regret that some of our choices have sent us in different directions."

Draco took a deliberate step forward. "If you were involved, and Harry doesn't make a full recovery, the Aurors will be the least of your worries." His threat delivered, he stepped around his former friend and out of his office without caring if Blaise stood there all night. 

~*~

Harry listened to the soft rustle of leaves while his mind took its time remembering how to open his eyelids. He ached, but it was manageable, pushed down and muffled, and made infinitely better by the calming nature sounds and the warm hand wrapped around his own.

He opened his eyes and blinked a few times to focus. Hundreds of wispy willow shoots, heavy with green and yellow leaves swayed in a breeze he could see and hear, but not feel. He caught glimpses of a perfect blue sky and pale spring sun through the greenery, but the warmth of it never reached him.

The hand pulled away quickly, and Harry turned his head to see Draco pushing his chair back a little from the bed.

"I like the new ceiling," Harry said, coughing afterward. His mouth felt like it had been recently filled with sand.

"Here. Have some water. Slowly." Draco glanced upward. "Thought you might like a change of scenery when you woke up." 

Harry watched as Malfoy took a seat again. There was something off about the wrinkled uniform and hastily buttoned white cardigan, but they seemed to match the tired eyes and the sleep crease on his cheek left by the imprint of a blanket – or fingers pressed into skin.

"You slept here?" Harry rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, and suddenly wished he had clean teeth or a plate of sausages. He couldn't decide which urge was more immediate. 

"They called me in when you were in crisis. I didn't want to leave in case there was a second wave," Draco said, waving his wand to check Harry's vitals. Numbers and strange symbols appeared on the wall beside the bed.

Harry forgot the sausages when Draco rolled his neck back and rubbed out the kinks. It had been a rough night for them both.

"Thank you."

Draco wore a tired, but honest smile. "It's my pleasure."

Harry was suddenly glad that the old Harry and Draco had put aside their differences and become friends. He just wished he could remember more.

"I recovered a good chunk of memories last night, but I'm not sure I want to do that again if it's going to hurt so much," Harry admitted.

Draco stopped recording the medical information and gave his full attention back to Harry. "How much have you remembered?"

"End of the war, maybe a month or two more." A sharp, short burst of pain forced his eyes closed as memory he'd already recovered came back with vivid clarity. He felt the cold, damp ground under his dying body as a woman whispered against his ear. Harry forced his eyes open and grabbed Draco's hand. "Your mother, Draco, she… In the forest, she saved me. She saved everyone."

Draco moved his free hand to the water glass, but Harry waved him off. The urgency of the memory faded, and he suddenly felt strange and immature for grabbing Draco. There was a gentle squeeze just before Harry let him have his hand back.

"I never knew if it was an act of bravery or self-preservation. I suppose it doesn't matter now."

"She was willing to betray _him_ for a hint that you were still alive." Harry stopped for a moment when Draco looked away. "Maybe we're not supposed to understand it. I think it's just what mothers do."

Draco shrugged and gave Harry a hint of a smile. "Perhaps you're right. I'm convinced all mothers become a different breed of creature when their children are threatened."

Harry nodded and gave Draco's words some thought. He tried to picture his own mother protecting him. He wondered if she had time to realise that she was only thing left standing between her enemy and her son. She gave him life – more than once, and she had been there with him – even at the end. He knew there was no point in wondering 'what if' when it came to the life he'd been dealt, but he still felt guilt and emptiness for the price she had paid.

With the war memories still fresh in his mind, he wondered if his older self still carried the weight of all the other souls who'd fallen during the last battle.

He finally rolled toward Draco and stuck an arm under the pillow. He didn't know what to think of their conversation or his wandering thoughts. He was tired enough that he thought he might be dreaming it all up, though he was fairly sure it was real. 

Draco was another mystery he couldn't quite figure out. One day he was just a Healer, next he was an old enemy, and now… "You said we eventually become close friends. Did your mother bring us together?"

Draco's smile held a touch of sadness. "In a way, I suppose. You testified on her behalf, and I began to understand who you really were, even back then. You challenged me to become my own man and badgered me into becoming someone who was worth a second chance."

"Do you miss him – the other me?"

Draco inhaled slowly and took a minute before answering. "Yes, and no. He's here – he's _you_ – but a version of you I don't get to see very often. I imagine it's much harder from your end, getting tossed around your own timeline without warning."

"Most of the time it's not too bad," Harry said, watching Draco swirl out a few notes on his pad. "The memories were coming a few at a time, and it wasn't so hard to manage, but last night I thought it was going to kill me. There was just too much information pouring in all at once and the pain was so bad. It felt like my head was splitting."

Draco paused the quill and touched Harry's hand briefly. "I'm sorry I wasn't here. I should have been."

"It's ok," Harry said, looking up again. For the first time, he truly saw the concern of a friend reflected in the tired eyes staring back at him. He spread his fingers, slowly and waited. Without comment, Draco curled his fingers into the waiting spaces. It was new, and probably not professional in the least, but it filled the loneliness, even if it wasn't going to last. "You're here now. What happened, anyway? Why was it so bad this time?"

"I'm afraid that might be my fault," Draco said quietly, staring down at their hands. ”The brain is a strange animal. By giving you one of my memories, the other Healers and I believe that it disrupted the order your mind had set up to cope with this situation."

Harry raised his eyebrows. "There was an order?"

Draco chuckled. "Maybe one that doesn't make sense to us, but it certainly let us know that my memory wasn't welcome in your head – at least not yet. I'm sorry."

"It's all right. Don't blame yourself." Harry rubbed at his eyes with his free hand and sank deeper into his pillows. He looked up and watched the blue sky sweep in and out of the sway of the willow. The forgotten ring on his chest grew warm. He played with it through the fabric. Malfoy cleared his throat. When Harry looked up, Draco was intently studying the water tray.

"You're my friend, so you know about this ring, right?"

Draco swallowed. "Harry, it's really not my place to…"

"Do you know whose it is?"

"It's yours," Draco said quickly, reclaiming his hand. Harry felt the warmth run away from his skin. Draco looked up at the door, but Harry captured his hand again before he could make a polite escape.

"Nice try. I mean, yes, I know it must be mine now, because I'm wearing it, but I took it off the chain earlier and tried it on. It doesn't fit any of my fingers."

Draco tugged gently, but Harry refused to release the hand. Draco exhaled and closed his eyes as if gathering strength. "Harry, this isn't something we should discuss right now. I really shouldn't have…"

"I don't have any memory of it, so I know I must get it after the war, but before my accident," he said, taking a moment to catch Draco's eyes. The raw emotion he saw before Malfoy shut it down was shocking. Draco's hand slid from his as he wondered if he'd taken his questioning too far. "I'm just really curious about it, that's all," he finished flatly.

"It saved your life," Draco whispered to the floor.

"It's got a tracking spell or something, right? It got so hot when I was in the cave, but I'm guessing it was some sort of a warning system."

"Yes. Your job – your future occupation – comes with its share of danger. The ring connects you to the person who gave it to you and alerts them if you're seriously injured or, Merlin forbid, dead." Draco paused and took a few more deep breaths. Pink blotches were showing along his collar. "He or she was probably worried enough about you on the day you vanished that the rings called out to each other. That’s how the Aurors were able to find you under the rubble."

Draco tapped his wand on the bedside table. A small glass half-filled with a light blue liquid appeared. "To prevent future headaches," he explained.

Harry nodded, and then returned to his questioning. "So, where are they?"

Draco busied himself with re-buttoning his cardigan properly. "They, who?"

"Come on, Draco! Where's the person who saved my life? If they care about me so much, where have they been?"

Draco finished his fiddling, but took his time looking back to Harry as he picked up the potion. "His work is nearly as demanding as yours. He's been close, but the situation is - difficult. Nearly impossible," he muttered the last two words under his breath.

"He?" Harry asked, taking the cup.

"Drink. Yes, 'he'. Not what you were expecting?"

It tasted like lavender, honey and something bitter underneath the sweet. "I'm not sure." He set the empty glass down and pulled the ring out from his collar to study it. "It looks so much like a wedding band, I thought that it might have belonged to one of my parents."

"Perhaps it did."

"Hmm…" He studied the bit of gold in his hand and thought that it was probably the most beautiful thing he owned. Harry blinked. "Malfoy, what was in that potion?"

"Rest, now. I'll be back in a few hours."

The light glinting off the edges of the ring became a blurred, soft glow as Harry turned it round and round. He stared at it until his eyelids refused to work. His head and hands followed next, flopping back down to the bed without his permission. Before Harry fully realised what was happening, there were soft fingers tucking the ring away, and warm blankets tugged up under his chin. As the potion pulled him away from Draco, Harry thought he felt the brief press of a kiss against his temple.

~*~

He was warm – warm and very aware of his nose pressed into equally warm skin in the dip where neck and shoulder met. It presented a wonderful place to explore. Inhaling, Harry discovered a delicious spicy-soapy scent that seemed to be the exact recipe for lifting his cock and making him several degrees warmer.

He ignored the fact that he was probably dreaming, and explored the rest of the body spooned in front of him. He liked what his fingers discovered: smooth skin that was soft at the base of the ribs and then stretched tight over a hipbone. He ran his touch up and back a few times, tracing the contours. He smiled when he brushed a ticklish patch of skin and made his partner twitch.

_Why can't all my dreams and memories be like this one?_ Harry thought as he opened his mouth to the skin under his lips, knowing – somehow – that he was welcome to dive into his research without being denied. As if reading Harry's mind, his partner moaned, deep and low.

A man. 

Harry slipped his hand up and across an abdomen that made his own muscles tighten in response, and spread his fingers over a decidedly masculine chest. It wasn't as strange or foreign as he thought it would be – holding a man against him – in fact, there hadn't been any other experience in his life, that he could recall, that compared to how amazingly _right_ he felt at the moment.

"Harry, touch me," whispered the voice. It was familiar, and yet he'd never heard it sound this way – so breathless. Perfect. Harry tried to lift his head to get a better view of the man, but his hand was caught and pushed down to exactly where he had hoped it's journey would end. Their entwined fingers worked in unison – sliding and tightening while Harry closed his eyes, and tried to catch his breath. He could feel his cock pulsing, wanting the same attention, but he focused instead on the body under his fingers. He wanted nothing more than to take his time with the man who was hungry for his touch – the man breathing out his name.

He nudged a knee and rolled forward, releasing a hiss when his cock slid into the warm place between two strong thighs, high enough to deliver the message without any misinterpretation. 

The man pushed back into the contact uttering a chain of swear words that made Harry smile through his haze of arousal.

As Harry sucked on the tender skin of his partner's neck again, the man rolled his head back, breaking the contact, searching for Harry's mouth with his own. Harry knew it couldn't be a comfortable position for the other man, but he lost that thought when their mouths finally slid together.

The kiss was like finding a safe place to hide during a storm. It was a wet, hot conversation that didn't require words.

He wanted to look – wanted to know who was sharing his bed, his soul, his everything, and yet somehow, he didn't need to confirm his suspicions. Harry knew who he wanted it to be. He knew who it had to be.

He broke the kiss gently, but pushed the man onto his back with a force that spoke of how much Harry wanted him. Out of the corner of his eye, something glinted. It was lying on the pillow just above a pale shoulder – looped through a chain Harry had missed finding on his first exploration.

A ring.

The moment his fingers curled around it, Harry woke up. Panting, alone and harder than an oak, he swore loudly at the night scene above his bed. When a few concerned faces poked around his door, Harry grabbed a discarded sheet, curled onto his side to hide the problem between his legs and quickly tried to invent a reasonable explanation for his outburst.

~*~

Draco woke up on the leather loveseat in his office. He stood and stretched out the stiffness as best he could while trying to figure out just when he'd fallen asleep. He'd spent half the night sitting up with Harry, and nearly three more hours discussing Blaise's information with Harry's team of Aurors. He remembered it all wrapping up around five-ish and popping into his office before heading home for a few hours.

At least that had been the plan. 

Through tired eyes, Draco squinted up at the snitch-shaped clock Harry had given him three Christmases back. Half eight. He knew he couldn't run on three hours of sleep, potions and adrenaline much longer. He felt like he'd been caught off-guard by a bludger or four. The past twenty-four hours had been professionally challenging and emotionally draining, but he didn't want to go home for some much needed sleep without checking in on Harry again, even though he hoped the beautiful idiot was still sleeping with the aid of the potion.

Draco knew something was off the moment he entered the room, and yet he tried a 'good morning' regardless, but Harry – awake and frowning – ignored the greeting and crossed his arms over his chest. Draco glanced quickly at the night report in his hand. It didn't mention anything of note in his absence except for one minor outburst of swearing, but with the heat of Harry's eyes tracking his every move, Draco knew the game was up. 

"You drugged me!" Harry accused.

Fortunately, all of Draco's sleepless hours had given him time to think up the response he knew he would need. "You were in pain and recovering from trauma. I was doing my job – putting the interest of my patient first."

"Fuck off, Malfoy! You knocked me out instead of changing the subject like a normal person!"

Draco spent a thought on fabricating something technical to baffle Harry into submission, but the truth seemed easier. "I… Perhaps."

"Well?" Harry asked, giving him a look that he'd used countless times in their relationship. It meant that Draco had about a minute to explain himself before Harry decided where he would be sleeping that evening. It was so familiar that Draco nearly smiled – and would have – if he hadn't been so exhausted. He sat down in the chair that was still pulled up next to the bed.

"After your backlash, I thought it best that I didn't offer any new information. I apologise for the lie, and I'll admit that ethically, I did make a poor choice, but believe me when I say I did it to protect you." 

Harry relaxed his arms and studied a stray thread on the coverlet – his anger seemed to have gone somewhere else for the moment. Draco tried to decide if the mood change was drastic enough to record. He didn't want to search for a symptom behind every reaction, but sometimes in his line of work, the insignificant revealed more than the obvious. From this point on, he wouldn't take any more chances with Harry's life.

"Is it because of the hand-holding thing?" Harry half-heartedly offered, interrupting Draco's thoughts. "That was nice, but I can live without it if it makes you uncomfortable. It was just good to hear something more about my life. Knowing there's someone out there who loves me, who saved my life – that meant a lot to me. But not having him here…"

"Harry, he's… I'm sorry." Draco looked down and swallowed. It was hard not to confess everything to this Harry. He was so close, nearly the same as the man he loved, but not close enough to risk everything. "I can't say anything more."

"It's just a few questions," Harry whispered. "I'm not asking for the entire book."

Draco looked up and tried to mask his grief with a half-smile. "I believe that you deserve to know, and you will, just not yet."

"Maybe it will help trigger a new memory..."

Draco slipped back into Healer mode. "…Which could cause another episode." He ignored the look Harry gave him. "Seeing as the last one was incredibly dangerous and has yet to be analysed, I'm sure you can understand why I want to tread lightly." Draco kept his voice low. Can we at least agree that my concern is for your safety and well-being?"

"Yeah, I know." Harry pushed back the covers, and sat up facing Draco. "How close are we?"

"To what?"

Harry rolled his eyes. "Our friendship, you idiot."

Draco shook his head in mock-disbelief. "Was I not clear on why we're not talking about personal details right now?" He looked up in time to see Harry press his lips together, the way _his_ Harry would do on the odd occasion when he was nervous. Draco watched those lips until a hand landed on his knee.

"Because if we're close, this must be hard on you too."

Draco tried to find the will to get up and walk away. He'd done it only hours before - granted, he'd had to drug Harry to do it - but it had been the best thing for the both of them, according to the weary voice in the back of his mind. Another part of him wanted to stay, to look up and search the eyes he knew for hints that Harry had remembered more than he was letting on.

The slow stroke of Harry's roaming thumb chipped away at Draco's resolve and turned the internal warning bells into a tolerable melody. He needed to either move away or move closer, but he wasn't sure which would be more damaging. He settled on taking Harry's hand in his own, and sharing some of the truth.

"It was horrible when you vanished. They found you quickly enough, considering, but for the people who care for you, it wasn't fast enough. Knowing that you're alive and safe now makes the rest easier to deal with."

"Everyone's been so great - Ron's family and everybody here, but there still feels like so much more is missing. I feel… I don't even know what to call it – cold – hollow, maybe?"

Draco's heart broke to hear the words. With a silent wish that there was more he could do to fill the emptiness, he asked, "Would you like to talk about it?"

"It feels like I know everything and nothing at the same time. I have to re-learn and re-live everything all over again. The worst part is knowing that everybody else knows who I'm friends with, what I do for a living and who I become, but I just get – crumbs!" Harry took his hand away and settled back against the headboard. A new indicator light began pulsing on the wall as Harry voiced his final question to no one in particular. "Don't I deserve to know?"

Draco wanted so badly to reach out, but he stayed where he was, allowing Harry the time to rant if he needed to. He helplessly watched as Harry's cheeks showed signs of rising colour and his hands fisted the sheets. The indicator light changed from white to orange and blinked faster.

"Oh, but it's all for my own good, of course!" Harry continued, slight bitterness creeping into his tone. He got to his feet, looking angrier by the second. Draco pushed his chair back to make room, only half-startled by the outburst. All at once the bed shot backward and every sensor in the room abruptly petered out. Suddenly Harry was all Draco could see – leaning in, hands planted on the arms of the chair. The intensity of emotion took Draco's breath away. The anger he had seen just a moment ago had been replaced by an unfamiliar, predatory leer that made Draco's skin crawl. He fought the impulse to call for help, and then wondered if that would be a costly mistake. 

Harry closed the distance until only a few inches separated them. Draco's heart thundered as he was studied at close range. A vivid image of a hawk and mouse came to mind.

"Isn't it odd that I don't know where I live, but I can do this?"

One quick gesture and the door vanished. Another smooth, dipping sweep of Harry's hand and Draco's chair went the way of the door. Before he realised he should be falling, Draco found himself up against the wall with a warm body pressed against him. His breath rushed out as his mind spun. He tried to push away, but Harry was caged around him so tightly he couldn't raise his arms.

Gone was the childlike Harry of only a few days ago, swapped with someone closer to his own Harry, and yet still worlds away. A strange blend of panic and arousal pushed away any clarity of thought. Draco's body thrummed with the electricity of Harry surrounding him, and it warred with the annoying voice of reason telling him that _this_ Harry was probably emotionally unstable, and he’d best call for help as soon as possible.

Draco was half-listening to see if anyone had noticed the door had gone, but knowing Harry's magic the way he did, he knew the Aurors in the corridor were probably unaware of the change. They would be seeing whatever Harry wanted them to see.

~*~

Chapter 5 tomorrow. Thank you again for your comments. *big hugs*


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Well, dear readers, here we are at the half-way point. Buckle-up. This ride is a bumpy one.  
> *hugs*
> 
>  
> 
> **"Harry, some space – please."**
> 
>  
> 
> **The suggestion made sense in his mind, but his body rejected the idea. Harry pressed a little closer, rested his head on Draco's shoulder and took a few more deep breaths with his nose buried in the weave of the warm cardigan. He didn't know what to do with all the emotions and impulses stirred up by the simple act of breathing. He tried again to let go and silently asked his magic, and whichever gods were listening, to help him get a hold of himself. The unexpected answer came with a flare of heat that escaped through his hands, melted into the wall and sprouted ties that wrapped gently, but firmly around Draco's wrists and ankles.  
> **  
> 

Harry shoved his face into the base of Draco's neck and inhaled. It brought the dream back with striking detail. He moaned, loving the way it felt to finally connect, to feel a heart pounding so close to his and to bathe in the heat radiating off them both. Draco froze under him as Harry experimented, brushing his lips lightly over the warm skin. It was a hundred times better than the dream. 

“Perfect.” He smiled as Draco shivered.

"Harry, some space – please."

The suggestion made sense in his mind, but his body rejected the idea. Harry pressed a little closer, rested his head on Draco's shoulder and took a few more deep breaths with his nose buried in the weave of the warm cardigan. He didn't know what to do with all the emotions and impulses stirred up by the simple act of breathing. He tried again to let go and silently asked his magic, and whichever gods were listening, to help him get a hold of himself. The unexpected answer came with a flare of heat that escaped through his hands, melted into the wall and sprouted ties that wrapped gently, but firmly around Draco's wrists and ankles. 

"Potter," Draco warned, his voice low and controlled. 

"I know!" 

He tried to even out his breathing, rein in his magic and step back, but the more he tried, the more Draco's warmth and scent surrounded him, filling his head with images that were both arousing and aggravating. He closed his eyes and the reality of the bone-deep loneliness he suddenly felt, made his heart ache strangely. He slid his cheek along Draco's jaw and took another deep breath "Fuck, Draco, you smell so much like the man from my dream." 

Draco dragged in a few breaths before speaking again.

"You never mentioned another dream." Draco turned his head away, but the action of revealing more of his neck drew Harry in like a magnet.

"I was angry, remember? I thought I might have been seeing things – like the dream was a side effect of the potion. Whatever it was, it _felt_ so real." Harry got a jolt of arousal as his mind replayed some of the very best images.

He pulled his head up slowly and studied Draco's face until he had his captive's full attention. There were so many answers hidden behind those grey eyes, an intimacy stronger, deeper than good friends. Much more. Half of him wanted to release Draco - and his fingers tingled with the unspoken command - but there was also a voice that urged him to take advantage of the golden opportunity laid out in front of him, strapped to the wall. He knew without hesitation that he was the stronger man – magically and physically – regardless of his mental age, but he also had a feeling that Draco had cards he had yet to show as well. Still, Harry couldn't pass up the chance to see if he could press Draco for a little more information. Also, the sight of Malfoy, pink-flushed and at Harry's mercy created too tempting a picture to ignore.

"It was a memory, wasn't it?" Harry asked, lowering his mouth again to whisper against Draco's ear. "My body knows you. I can feel it."

"It's alright," Draco said, quietly. "Breathe, Harry. Just listen to me and try to stay calm. You've been though a lot in the past few days. I'm in contact with you the most, so, naturally you've become accustomed to…"

An image from the end of the dream resurfaced, and Harry ignored the words to run a hand slowly over Draco's chest, stealing away whatever he'd been trying to say. Harry paused once he felt the tell tale bump he had hoped would be there. He levitated it out from Draco's shirt until it hovered between them, still attached to the chain.

"The man I dreamt about had a ring just like yours."

"It's a gold band, Potter. They are all relatively similar." Draco's voice was steady, but a thin sheen of perspiration appeared on his brow.

Harry couldn't stop his fingers from wrapping around Draco's jaw, or pull his eyes away from a face he seemed to truly be seeing for the first time. It was difficult for a moment to connect the man in front of him with the Malfoy Harry knew from the past. There was a maturity reflected in his tired eyes, an entire life there that Harry wanted to know about. 

"Who gave this to you?"

"I've told you more than I should have already. Harry, this is more complicated than you know," Draco said, confidence flowing back into his tone. "Please don't push this. You still have a chance to let me go without incident."

Something about the way Draco could maintain authority while being the one trapped against the wall made Harry smile. "I have a theory," he said, releasing Draco's face. He took a step back. His own ring slithered out of his shirt and hovered next to Draco's. With another thought, the ties binding Draco melted out of existence. "Give me your finger."

"What? No," Draco refused, crossing his arms.

Harry held out his hand and watched as the rings slipped through their chains and drifted down onto his waiting palm without Draco's permission. When he looked up, Draco's eyes were narrowed, but he stayed silent as Harry reached to untangle his arms. When Harry's ring slid perfectly home on Draco's third finger, Harry felt his heart give an extra thud.

He wasn't surprised when the other ring was a perfect fit on his own hand. "You're him. You stubborn ass! Why couldn't you just tell me?"

Draco refolded his arms, tucking the ring out of sight. For the first time, Harry saw a flash of the Malfoy he remembered from Hogwarts, but in an instant it was gone again, replaced by someone who was busy avoiding Harry's eyes.

Harry waited, but when no answer came, he took a deep breath and tried again. "I had a strong feeling it was you, but I didn't know for sure. I know I'm not going about this the right way, but I won't sit here while my whole life's being kept from me. I'm collecting the pieces, trying to wait, like you all want me to, but I can't. Draco, you know I'm not set up that way." He looked down at the space between them and felt the heat of Draco's skin leaving him. He held his ground, but laid his left hand over the place where Draco's arms crossed. His ring picked up the light and brought a weary smile to his face. 

"Didn't think I'd notice that you knew more about me than anyone else: how I take my tea, my favourite food, what I like to wear? Our rings fit each other, Draco. I should hate you for all of the lies, but I can't right now." The ring grew warm on his finger. "You saved my life." Haunted eyes met his, telling Harry he wasn't the only one that felt the pulse. "This just feels right. He slid his way along Draco's arm and under the crook of an elbow until the rings brushed against each other and grew warmer still. " _You_ feel right."

Draco's voice was a broken whisper when it came. "Harry..."

"Why didn't you just tell me how close you were to him – to me?"

"Is that what you would have done, had our roles been reversed?" Draco asked, leaning his head back against the wall. 

Harry stroked the fingers under his, and couldn't stop his other hand from moving to Draco's shoulder. His fingers wanted to touch that delicious neck, but he held back – barely. He took it as a good sign when Draco didn't push him away.

"I asked you first," Harry said.

Draco closed his eyes for a moment and then inhaled slowly. When he released the breath, Harry noticed another story written across Draco's brow – the one that told of many hours of missed sleep, silent grief and a touch of bitterness. Still, it didn't take away the excitement of Harry's recent discovery. He could almost wait for more answers if it meant they could spend the next few hours kissing the pain away, curing the ache he knew they both felt. 

"You had the memories of a ten-year old Muggle when you woke up. How do you think that would have gone over? _Welcome to St Mungo's, Master Potter. My name is Draco Malfoy, and I'll be your Healer and – oh yes – husband for the duration of your stay_!"

Relief flooded through him. _married!_ It was better than permission. Without thinking, Harry pulled off his jumper and banished Draco's clothes from the waist up for good measure. When the warm skin of their chests connected at the same time as their lips, Harry knew there was no better medicine in the world. 

Draco gasped in surprise at the contact and made an attempt to say something, but Harry pressed in again until his mouth made sure Draco's had something better to do. It was brilliant. He didn't know where to touch first, but his fingers burned with an urgency he'd never felt before. They moved on their own up Draco's throat and into the warm, fine hair. He closed his fists and pulled back firmly, letting instinct take over. Draco's eyelids closed and a moan escaped his lips. Harry could only stare at the picture they made. It was beautiful, familiar, even though he couldn't ever remember touching Malfoy this way.

As the pause lengthened, Draco's eyes opened and Harry suddenly remembered they had a bed nearby. Before he could stop the words, they tumbled out. "I thought it was just a dream, but I hoped it was real. Fuck, Draco, you were so beautiful naked. I want you."

Draco fought to control his breathing as he latched onto Harry's forearms. "Gods, I want…" He opened his eyes, but it took a second for him to focus. Then Harry saw the answer written all over Draco's pained expression. "No, we can't. At this point in your recovery, you haven't – you've never..." He freed one of his hands and gestured at their bodies.

Harry tried to control his frustration, but he'd heard enough _no_ for a lifetime. He didn't want to force the issue, but his body was done with the chatter and was more than willing to tie Draco to something else in order to prove just how much he didn't need a Healer's opinion at the moment. 

"I don't care if my brain hasn't filled in all the gaps yet. I'm still him – me, and we're together, right?" 

"Yes – no. You have no idea of the…" 

"I've got more than a good idea." He shoved his hips forward and felt a rush of power as he watched Draco's composure crumble. "I've been hard since that dream and it wasn't nearly as amazing as having you here, now. It's not advanced potions, Malfoy. Want to bet I can figure out which part goes where?" 

As if a demonstration was needed, Harry dove in and kissed Draco passionately in an attempt to put an end to the protests. For good measure, he reached down and gripped Draco firmly between the legs. The sounds of surprise and pleasure that came from them both, made Harry feel invincible. He wasn't playing fair, he knew, but as the seconds ticked on, he could feel Draco yielding, submitting and falling into a rhythm that was quickly picking up speed. 

Draco's left arm slid up and around until the faded Dark Mark rested across Harry’s shoulders. The memory of their first duel slipped into his head, along with another image – one he definitely hadn't seen before. It was a picture of Draco, body flushed with arousal, stretched out on a bed – their bed – with his arms resting above his head, the skull and snake plainly in view. 

Then Harry remembered something else he could do. 

It was nearly impossible to describe the transformation from speaking English to Parseltongue – it was more than a language, it had weight, texture. He slipped into it like a warm bath – a second skin. 

_"It was an accident the first time. I spoke to the mark just to see what would happen."_

Draco gasped for air like a drowning man and clasped Harry's face in his hands. 

" _Nothing happened to the snake, but you got so hard. I remember what you looked like._ " Harry smiled at the memory while massaging Draco through his trousers. Draco moaned wet kisses against the side of his mouth. " _All mine._

"Harry, oh, fuck!" 

_"Mmm… Why did we wait so long to get together?_ " Harry wondered, moving his lips until they brushed the shell of Draco's ear. " _Think what we could have been doing instead of hating each other all those years."_

For a few blissful moments, Draco was his completely. Harry closed his eyes and let their bodies take over. He moved instinctively, pulling Draco closer, touching all the right places without questioning how he knew what he was doing. Acting on impulse, he Apparated them the short distance to the bed. Unsteady from the unexpected side-along, Draco stumbled, but Harry was there and ready to guide him onto the covers. 

Draco took in their new location and stopped his climb onto bed. "Harry, wait." He rubbed a hand over his forehead. "Gods, I'm going to kill myself for this later." 

"No regrets, here. Come on, Draco," Harry urged. 

"No, I meant…" Draco regained his footing and pushed back from the bed, holding a hand up between them. "I need my clothes. I can't think," he said, as his gaze landed the side table where his abandoned wand rested. 

For once, Harry wasn't quick enough. He reached out, unable to stop, aching to touch Draco again, needing to finish what they'd started. 

The Shield Charm Harry hit wasn't going to keep him away for long, but it sent an insulting message. Wasn't there some unwritten rule about drawing a wand on your spouse? Irritation ploughed its way through the dissipating fog of arousal. His magic responded, pooling close to the skin – angry and itching to be released. The small table beside Draco collapsed in on itself, as if crushed by an invisible fist. Draco kept his eyes on Harry. 

"Calm down. I just needed some space to think." 

"Fuck, Draco! Why are you fighting me?" 

"Because you’re not healed – not fully. It's not right for me to throw your safety away because I miss you so much it hurts. I almost killed you with one fucking memory. If you don't let up soon, I'll probably give in – but it won't be good for either of us in the long run. If you're hurt as a result of this, I'll never forgive myself." 

Through the cloud of emotions, Harry caught a glimpse of himself in the forest, standing before Voldemort, ready to sacrifice everything for the people he loved. He wondered where that Harry had gone and why Draco was now holding the moral compass in their relationship. He didn't know what he was doing. As fast as it had come, the anger rolled away, leaving him cold and confused. 

"What if you leave now and I die anyway?" he asked quietly. 

"Harry, that's not…" 

"No, wait. Hear me out. You're right – no one knows what's going to happen. I might become your Harry tomorrow and everything goes back to the way it was. But what if it doesn't? What if we don't have much time left together? You said it yourself; nobody's seen anything like this before." 

"Not until now, but that's not the point. Magic is forever changing and throwing us into new situations. There's no need to fear the worst, but there's also a world of reasons why _this_ \- as much as we both want it or how good it feels– shouldn't go any further." After a moment, he lowered his wand. 

Harry took a few steps forward, but kept a respectful space between them. "I know I'm risking a lot, but don't you think I deserve this? Don't we? What if you never get him back or if I don't live past tomorrow? I don't want to die without being with you." The urge to touch Draco wouldn't leave him. He fought it for a moment, but then a hand wrapped around his own. Draco was looking at him with so much love and grief it made Harry's heart ache. 

"I understand – probably more than you know, and you're right, none of this is fucking fair, but I won't be responsible for hurting you again." He looked down at their entwined fingers and smiled. "Besides, you're still missing eight more years of memories. For all you know, our marriage is in ruins and I could be a cheating cad with a Pepper-Up addiction." 

"But you're not. Something tells me Hermione and the Weasleys wouldn't leave me alone if you were. Stop trying to scare me. I've known you nearly all of my life. I probably know you better than anybody else." 

Draco squeezed his hand. "Yes, you will, just not yet." 

"You talk too much, Malfoy," Harry said with a smile, pulling Draco close again. He was willing to put the almost-fight out of his mind when Draco's hand landed on his chest, pausing their reunion. 

"And you never listen, Potter." 

Harry chuckled to himself and gave Draco what he intended to be one last embrace. It slid quickly into something not so innocent as soon as Draco's scent surrounded him once more. Harry felt Draco tense up as his lips wandered again over a warm, exposed shoulder and up the side of that glorious neck, but he pressed on, hoping that Draco would give up on the idea of protecting him, or that at least he would allow Harry to give him one memory that was just theirs – something that he would never forget. 

"Why do we both hate Halloween?" 

"What?" Harry asked, half-ignoring Draco – distracting himself with the curve of a warm back under his fingers. When his hand was gently tugged away, Harry lifted his eyes. 

"Focus. What's my favourite film?" 

"That's not… Shut up. You're ruining the mood." Harry reached for the smooth ridge of Draco's hip that was peeking out at him, but he was stopped again. 

"Why did I become a Healer, Harry?" 

He'd had it with distractions. He understood being cautious, and he wasn't keen on enduring another memory backlash, but Draco was his, and all this talking wasn't getting them anywhere. He tried for a seductive smile as he sank again into Parseltongue. 

" _I don't really care at the moment,_ " he said, punctuating with soft kisses. _"Shut. Up._ " 

Draco shuddered and closed his eyes as all the blood rushed away from his face. A few deep breaths brought some colour back, and unfortunately for Harry, Draco seemed to gain control over himself again in record time. Long fingers wrapped around Harry's jaw, holding his attention. 

"When did you fall in love with me?" 

"Draco that's not…" Irritation crept up again, but he told himself to ignore it. He was trying – knowing that he couldn't lose his temper again, and yet Draco's questions were really getting under his skin. He leaned in for another kiss. "You know I don't remember any of…" 

The fingers tightened their grip a fraction, forcing their eyes to lock again. "When, Harry?" 

"We don't have to be in love to fuck!" Harry yelled, knocking Draco's hands away. With the next breath, he stole Draco's wand and had him trapped up against the wall once more. It felt good to be back in control, and he inwardly applauded himself until he caught the lack of emotion in Draco's eyes. 

"Emergency Relocate requested: Malfoy, six, twenty-five," Draco said, calmly. 

"What?" 

Draco ignored the question as he turned his eyes to the empty wall next to him. "Bring the door back, Harry." 

Harry's mind tried to drive him into action – warned him he had better say something to keep Draco from leaving the room, but an ache was creeping up his chest and into his jaw and the words took so much effort to push out. "Draco, no. I'm sorry. Stay." 

Harry, I can't – if not for your sake, then for mine. I need to wait for him." 

"I can _be_ him for you. Why can't you just pretend?" 

Draco swallowed as a tear escaped. In that instant, Harry knew that he'd said the wrong thing, but it was too late to take it back. 

A bland, female voice floated around the room." _Granted, Healer Malfoy. Destination?_ " 

"My office." 

_"Approved. Emergency Relocate in four, three…"_

"No, look!" Harry pushed Draco's wand forward in desperation, tears burning in the corners of his eyes. "Here, take it! I'm sorry! Don't go!" 

Draco avoided his gaze and placed one hand on the wall while the other came up to catch his wand. "No, _I'm_ sorry, Harry. Please don't blame yourself. I think it's best if Healer Attwood takes over as your primary Healer from this point on." 

_"…two, one."_

"Draco!" Harry yelled, but it was too late, he was alone in his room – his cell. Anger mixed with a thousand other emotions as he made short work of destroying everything in his room with magic that lashed out from him like the snapping, wind-battered willow branches on the ceiling. The summer setting had been replaced with a silent storm that seemed to be projecting Harry's anguish. 

"FUCK!" 

With every crack, rip and explosion, he allowed both his magic and fury to flow without restraint, but there was only so much damage he could do in the small space, and eventually, his strength ran out. By the time the Aurors had found a way into the room, Harry was unable to do anything except lie in the pool of water, porcelain and mirror glass at the base of the ruined bathroom sink. 

As they worked around him, talked to him, bound his bleeding hands, his mind cruelly provided a loop of Draco's departure. He shook from the cold water, the overexertion and from the massive gash in his soul. 


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Draco felt the beginnings of a headache. He squeezed the bridge of his nose. “One dream, and he seems to remember exactly how to... HE USED FUCKING PARSELTONGUE, SEVERUS! What in Merlin’s blue balls was I supposed to do? I’m not made of stone!”**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ***Just wanted to say a quick 'thank you' for your love, support and comments! We've made it through chapter five from Harry's POV, and now we get a look at how Draco is coping. 

Misplaced Memories 6

 

Draco materialised behind his desk and sank to the floor. A discreet cough pulled him out of his swirling thoughts.

"I was unaware you had initiated a new therapy program for Potter."

"What are you on about?" Draco snapped, glaring as he looked up. He should have known Severus wouldn’t leave him to wallow in peace.

Snape lifted an eyebrow and nodded toward Draco's naked chest. "Or are you attending to all your patients in this new _uniform_?"

Draco took a breath and let his head fall back against the desk drawers. "Harry has discovered more of his magical abilities – and his sexuality," he explained, summoning a spare shirt. 

“And yet?”

“He’s under my care, Severus!”

“And therefore, you behaved professionally throughout the encounter.”

Draco felt the beginnings of a headache. He squeezed the bridge of his nose. “One dream, and he seems to remember exactly how to... HE USED FUCKING PARSELTONGUE, SEVERUS! What in Merlin’s blue balls was I supposed to do? I’m not made of stone!”

An iron bench appeared behind Snape. He took his time getting settled, crossed his legs and finally smoothed out the dark fabric of his robes. “Are there not two Aurors stationed at his door at all hours of the day and night? And do you not have a contingency plan established for such an - emergency?”

And there was that eyebrow again. Draco shook his head. “Don't you fucking laugh at me, Severus. I want him back so much I can hardly breathe some days, but this wasn't Harry." Draco swallowed. "Not exactly. He has all of Harry's magical and physical strength coupled with the libido of a teenager." He rubbed the back of his neck. "I don't really know what happened, to be honest."

"You said it yourself – he's an adolescent in a man's body. Imagine going through several years of anger, frustration and sexual urges all in one night – without release."

"Oh."

"Indeed."

Draco dropped his head and spoke to his knees. “I tried to stop him – us. Professionally, I’m a complete failure.”

"Some would call it human."

Draco choked out a bitter laugh. "Yes, how very unlike a Malfoy."

"So was binding yourself to Harry Potter."

The thought pushed through the self-hate and brought out a half-smile and some much needed distance to the situation. "Yes, that as well, but we did it in secret. That should gain me back a few rungs."

"Ah, yes. And what shall I award you for cleverly hiding your wedding band on your finger?"

Draco swore, moved his band back to the safety of the chain and tucked it out of sight. "That was Harry's doing – or whoever he is at the moment." He felt for the ring under his shirt. He'd always worn Harry's. It felt odd to have his own again. It was as if Harry was somehow rejecting him by handing it back. "What does it matter now, anyway?"

Snape turned his hand over and gazed at his palm until a cup and saucer appeared. Draco stood, stretched and placed his hands on the desk. He wasn't looking forward to giving his report to Erastus, but there was nothing for it. He felt a strange twinge in his stomach for leaving Harry the way he had. He wondered if the Aurors had managed to calm him down.

"I was not aware Zabini had been a witness at your bonding, " Snape said absently, yanking Draco away from his thoughts.

Draco turned back to face him. "He wasn't. Were you listening in when he was here?" Snape gave an imperceptible shrug while blowing steam across the brim of his cup.

"He spoke as if your marriage was common knowledge."

"I didn't think twice about it at the time, I was too annoyed with his theatrics. Do you think I need to speak with him again?" 

"Perhaps you should. Knowledge of your bond in the wrong hands is worth noting."

"What's your opinion of Blaise's hands? Harry hasn't been good for his business, but I don't think he'd have the balls to attack him. I'd like to believe the information he offered…"

"It's probably wise if you don't."

"We were friends once."

"Were you?"

That was the question Draco had been asking himself since the visit. They'd known each other as boys, shared a room at school, dreamed of being the heads of their households someday and had even tormented Harry together. Draco had changed, but had Blaise? _He always did have his own agenda._   
The rattle of cup and saucer made Draco turn again to the portrait. 

"You could hypothesize that the attack on Potter was an attempt to rid the world of you both."

"That's absurd. I didn't arrive on site until…"

"If that was the case, the orchestrator could have memorised your schedule, known when you were on-call for the field enforcers and made sure there were injuries enough to grab your attention."

"No, Harry and Butler had already secured…"

"Had they, or was that simply preamble to your entrance?"

"I don't know – you're giving me more speculation than fact, Severus."

"Everything is worth a second look at this juncture."

Draco shook his head. "One thing at a time. Are we trusting Blaise or not?"

"Keep your friends close, and offer sweets to your enemies."

"What kind of advice is that? Dumbledore offered sweets to everyone!"

"Again - something worth noting."

"Merlin! You're worse than Trelawney these days."

Severus tipped his hand and watched as the cup and saucer slid from his fingertips, vanishing long before they could be introduced to the paving stones at his feet. "At least the living can still get a decent cup of tea."

Draco gave up on the philosophical broom race with Snape and sank into his chair. He tried to give Severus' theories some serious thought, but his heart was too distracted. 

"I really upended the cauldron with Harry," he whispered. "Even if he does remember everything, he might not forgive me – not after today."

"We've already had this discussion. I thought _Potter's_ mind was the one slipping."

"You didn't see his face, Severus."

"I can see yours."

Draco stared up at his mentor. "And what does it tell you?"

"It tells me you are beating yourself for no crime."

"Who else is there to blame?” Draco asked. “I triggered his backlash, and I’ve just stepped down as his Healer." Severus studied him with a pointed stare Draco had seen on numerous occasions, but he remained silent. "What? I've talked to the Aurors already, and once I get my head together, I'll go talk to Blaise again, or find…" At sometime during Draco's rant, Severus' gaze had wandered down. "What are you staring at?"

Snape snapped his eyes back up to Draco's own. "Might I also suggest adding a cold shower to your agenda?" The bastard was actually smirking now. 

"Shut up," Draco ordered, without the venom he would have used had it been anyone else. He summoned his robes, turned his back on Severus and re-adjusted his trousers. Even without Harry in the room he was still half-hard. _Fuck. I'm hopeless._

"Must have been quite the session."

"Are you quite finished? I need to see Erastus." _and find something to drink_. 

"You need rest, Draco," he said humour gone, evidently predicting Draco's plan of overwork and self-medication. "And perhaps a friend who isn't confined to a pastoral scene." 

Draco's half-smile didn't do anything to lift his mood, and he nodded without voicing what he was agreeing to. "You don't give yourself enough credit. Goodnight, Severus," he said, leaving his office before the man could offer any more advice.

 

~*~

Draco stepped out of the fireplace and immediately noticed the ghostly red outline of a figure. It was a warning spell Harry had designed to alert them when someone was paused over-long in front of their door. 

"Who is it?" Draco demanded.

"Butler. Sorry I didn't send word. Can I talk to you for a minute?"

The last thing he wanted was company, but Butler wasn't just an Auror, he was Harry's partner and a close friend. 

"Thanks, Malfoy. Knew you'd call when there was anything to report, but since they just moved me across the street, thought I'd come and ask for myself."

"Sit, please. Something to drink?"

"Something warm and straight. Working, you know," he said with a wink.

Draco summoned the tea service and sat across from his guest. "I'm sorry I haven't… I should have talked to you sooner. How much have you heard?"

"Not much, to be honest. First reports said near-total memory loss, but then Humphries and Jacobs came back a while ago sayin' that they had to break into Harry's room today…"

"Did they mention how he seemed?"

"That's why I came over. What they were telling me didn't sound anything like Harry – said the room looked like Hogwarts after the battle, and he was laying there in the mess, just staring into nothing."

Draco's chest tightened at the news. "Why aren't you on the case?"

"You know the drill – a cock-up like ours gets time off and an investigation. It's a wonder I'm working at all, but we're short-handed, so I get to watch you sleep."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be, it's good to know that the both of you are safe. How's the hip?"

"Good – back to normal. It's the rest that's a pile of dung."

"I've been there – it's part of why I stopped by. You and Harry were there for me when Dianne passed, so I wanted you to know you have someone to listen – someone who's still learning how to cope, but a friend, nonetheless."

Even as bone-weary as he was, Draco found himself sharing everything over the next few hours – even the details he should have kept hidden: his anger, the hollow loneliness and all the guilt that seemed to build by the hour. To his credit, Butler listened without interrupting, only nodding in all the right places and charming the teapot to refill itself.

Once all the emotional topics were travelled, Butler really proved his worth by listening to Draco's theories about the attack and brainstorming the next course of action from an Auror's point of view. 

"Do you want a team on Zabini – if we can find him?"

Draco shook his head. "I have a feeling he'll find me again, soon enough."

"I can request a daytime team for your protection."

"Not just yet. I'm still trying to figure out his motives."

"Just be wise. I don't want to think this way, but Snape, dead as he is, might be right. You could be in danger as much as Harry."

"Perhaps, but why haven't they made their move if that was the case? I haven't been diligent in my security by any means. With all that's been going on, anyone could have attacked me and I wouldn't have known until it was over."

"Well, now that we have doubts, keep your eyes open. It never hurts to be over-cautious."

Draco agreed and picked up his teacup. Butler's fidgeting hands caught his attention. Draco gave a pointed glance and asked, "Is there something else on your mind?"

His lips turned up in a small smile at being caught. "I also may have heard that you stepped down as Harry's Healer."

Draco felt his skin heat. "Yes." He wanted to say more, defend his decision, but the words wouldn't come.

Butler nodded. He took another sip and then stared down at the ring he still wore, even though his wife had been gone nearly a year. "I was a mess - those last few days by her side. I would have done anything to make it easier for her. I would have broken the law, thrown away my whole career if it would have kept her with me."

"What are you saying?"

"I'm saying you did the right thing. Love and duty are doomed partners."

Draco smiled. "That was nearly poetic."

"Nearly," Butler said, getting to his feet. "Alright, I better head back before they classify this chat as my paid holiday." I'll do what I can, and you work on eating and sleeping. Hopefully we'll have somewhere to start by morning."

They parted with a solid handshake and promises to keep each other informed.

As he closed the door, Draco felt a little lighter. For the first time in days he began to see a glimmer of hope in a situation that had pounded him into the rocks.

He climbed into bed, pulled up the crisp, fresh sheets and closed his eyes. A memory came to mind of a time he and Harry had been lazing about on a Sunday morning, trying their best to ignore the world.

_"Tea?"_

_"Too far."_

_Draco agreed, busying his fingers instead with exploring the soft hair dusting Harry's chest._

_"What happens at a bonding?" Harry suddenly asked._

_"Didn't you go to several Weasley weddings?"_

_"Yeah, but Bill's was… Well, I don't remember most of it, and half the people at Ron and Hermione's were Muggle, so I'm sure it wasn't a representation of what traditional Wizarding families would do."_

_"You mean families like mine?"_

_Harry's body shifted as he shrugged. "Yeah, I guess."_

_"Well, it's always a grand affair – too many flowers, too many guests and far too many layers of clothing."_

_Harry rolled toward the nightstand, but was back at Draco's side a moment later. "What do you think about wearing rings?"_

_Draco paused, looking down at Harry, who was trying not to smile (and failing) and refusing to make eye contact. "It's not traditional, but I like the idea," he admitted._

_Harry smiled, and the morning grew brighter. He opened the hand that had been tucked between them._

_"Good. What do you think about this one?"_

_The band was fairly plain, but the gesture spoke volumes. "Passable", Draco teased, trying to keep his face expressionless. "Where did you find it?"_

_Harry mirrored Draco's blank mask. "Just got it back from the last wanker I proposed to."_

_"Oh, well then, I'm honoured."_

_Try as he may, Harry couldn't hold the laughter back. After a moment, he sobered. "Seriously, though, marry me."_

_"There might be some who would object."_

_"Fuck them. Marry me in public or in secret – I don't care!" He slid the ring onto Draco's finger. "Just, please, say yes."_

_Draco raised his eyebrows before pulling Harry into a kiss that warmed them both to the core. Harry buried his fingers in Draco's hair and pulled back gently. The deliberate gesture had Draco hard in a heartbeat._

_"Is that a yes?" Harry demanded, his voice rough with the promise of truly making Draco his._

_Draco let his head fall back with the pull of Harry's fingers. "This is for us, not the public – and no gingers. We’ll tell them later.”_

_Harry chuckled and kissed a path up Draco's throat. "Anything else?"_

_Draco moaned as Harry kissed along his jaw. "A proper honeymoon. No work, no family commitments – just you, me and an unplottable bit of paradise."_

_Harry brushed his lips over the shell of Draco's ear. "Done."_

_Draco took a deep breath. "And you're sure it's me you want?" Harry stilled his exploration at the sudden change in Draco's voice. He pulled back slowly._

_"Yes. Always."_

_Draco gave a half-smile. "Last chance to back out."_

_Harry dove back in and nipped his ear. "Nope. You're already wearing the ring. It's a done deal, Malfoy."_

_Happier than he had any right to be, Draco threw a leg over Harry and rolled his hips forward. Harry sucked in a surprised breath. "Care to seal the contract, Potter?"_

Draco reached for the ring on his chest and smiled through the tears that came. A short minute later, the metal trapped in his hand pulsed with a warmth that spoke of Harry's unfathomable ability to forgive. That night, even with everything still a mess, Draco slept better than he had in days.

~*~


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **As the man advanced, Harry felt panic creep into his mind for the first time. His stomach suddenly churned uncomfortably. He pressed a hand against it and fell back into the chair as his eyes failed him again. Objects lost their clarity until the room was made up of swirling colours and one watery voice.**
> 
>  
> 
> **“Everything all right, Mr Potter?”**

Harry reached out with both hands and focused everything he had on summoning his pillow from six paces away. Nothing. “Fuck!” Stomping over to his bedside table, he snatched up his wand and tried again. “Accio pillow! ACCIO THE FUCKING PILLOW!” He threw the wand at the bed. It bounced off and clattered to the floor. He stormed over to the bathroom to keep himself from snapping the useless stick.

The sound of the door opening spun him around.

"I want to go home!" Harry demanded, pausing his pacing long enough to study the unfamiliar white-cloaked official-looking person who'd just slid into his room. Unlike the grandfatherly Healer Attwood, this man was tall and angular, quite fit, and had skin the colour of chocolate-frogs. His coarse hair was cropped short and dusted with grey at the temples. Harry scanned the eyes and mouth unable to guess the man’s age.

"I'm sorry, Mr Potter. Everyone involved with your recovery – those under the Ministry and St Mungo's – feel it necessary at this time to…"

“Why is my magic gone? I want to see Healer Malfoy!”

The man met his gaze straight on, and for a moment, seemed as puzzled as Harry. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t informed that your magic was affected in the attack.”

“It wasn’t! I just used it a few hours ago!” Harry shouted, leaving off the fact that he had used it to destroy his room.

The man nodded. “Here, let me experiment.” He shook his sleeve, and a wand was suddenly in his hand. “Nox.” Nothing happened, except he gave another thoughtful nod. “The compressor has been activated,” he said to himself.

Relief pushed through the anger. “It’s not just me?”

“No, it’s the room. When the compressor is running, it neutralises magic. It was likely employed to ensure your safety.”

"I’ve had enough with people telling me what’s best for me! When can I go home?” Once he'd said it, he realised how childish he was being, but he didn't feel bad enough to apologise. Instead, he switched tactics and lowered his voice. "I feel fine, honestly; I've got a handle on things now."

The man gestured for Harry to take a seat. "It's something that might be addressed in the future – since you do live with a very capable Healer – however for now, it is my duty to make you as comfortable as possible while you continue your stay with us." He finished up with a wink as a tray of refreshments appeared on the bed. "Please, help yourself."

Harry eyed the contents. He'd had nothing to eat since the night before, but after his sleeping potion episode with Draco, he'd been less trusting of friendly Healers with snacks. "Are you the replacement Healer?" he asked, lifting the lid off the tea for a good sniff.

"Sadly, no. Apologies, I should have already introduced myself, Healer Gauthier. I've been called in to study your blood – a Haematologist, I believe the Muggles say."

Harry grabbed a plate of toast and tomatoes and poured himself a steaming cup of tea. "What's wrong with my blood? I thought my memory was the problem."

"Nothing to worry about. It's all a part of the process to send you home as soon as possible. Determining the proper diagnosis, however, can be like trying to find apples on a blueberry shrub."

The man was trying his best, and it wasn’t fair to keep punishing him for something out of his control, so Harry reluctantly let go of his bad mood and attempted a half-smile. He figured he should at least try to be civil after his poor first impression. "It's all fruit, but you're not at the right tree yet?"

The Healer grinned in return. "Exactly. Perhaps your blood holds the clue we've been searching for."

Harry considered this for a few moments, finished his breakfast and started in on his tea. He thought of Draco while his emotions lifted and fell on the waves of an invisible ocean. He felt ashamed and embarrassed about some of the things he'd said and done, but in the next breath, he was trying to figure out the best way to get out of the room and back into Draco's arms. The ring, hanging once again around his neck, grew warm. 

"When can I see Healer Malfoy?"

~*~

The mahogany desk reflected Draco's troubled expression as he surveyed the results of the past hour's work. 

His office had never been so clean. 

It was nearly impossible to ignore the urge to drop everything and check on Harry. There would be time to talk, he knew, time to repair the damage done, but somewhere between banishing everything from his desktop and hand-polishing Snape's empty frame, every ounce of patience had vanished. The ring against his chest was doing little to help. It kept pulsing out a constant reminder of Harry's own frustration and impatience to see him. Draco lifted his wand to request a short visit with Harry when the door suddenly flew open.

"Attwood is down," Butler panted, as his Patronus soared down the corridor and out of sight. 

Draco was moving before the sentence truly sank in. "Injuries?"

"Unconscious, but other than that, he seems whole enough on the outside. I left him with Healer Abell and came to find you."

"What happened?"

"I was on my way to see how you were holding up. His door was cracked open, and I popped my head in for a ‘Good morning’. He was on the floor behind his desk, so I flagged down the first Healer I saw. Looks like he’s been given something – won’t wake up, so I thought it best to get my arse over here and send a Patronus to the nearest team in case there was more to it."

Draco nearly choked on his next breath. "Erastus is supposed to be with Harry right now!"

Butler shook his head. "The unit stationed at his room told me there's already someone in with him – tall, dark-skinned bloke."

Warning bells chimed in Draco's mind as his blood turned cold. 

"Intruder!" Severus called out, suddenly filling his entire frame. "Fredrick the Fanciful believes there is an imposter in Potter's room."

The words cemented Draco's fears. “There is.”

~*~

"Healer Malfoy is attending a meeting at the moment, but I'm certain he will be looking in on you later this afternoon. Would you like me to pass a message on?"

"Oh. No, thank you." Harry looked up at the willow. It still swayed gently, but the thin shoots looked strange in their naked state. The clean-up staff was unable to make the leaves grow back. He never thought to ask them to remove it altogether; whole or not, it was a gift from Draco.

"The report says you had a rough night. If I may ask, how are you feeling now, Mr Potter?"

 _Like a selfish idiot_ , he thought to himself. "All right," Harry said with a shrug. "More embarrassed than anything. I know they fixed everything with magic, but if I have to pay for damages or for the extra work I gave the Aurors and…" He stopped himself short when the room began to blur slightly around the edges. A few blinks and the world came back into focus. 

"Think nothing of it. They've probably seen worse, believe me.” 

A thought struck Harry. “You said you were called in? You don’t normally work at St Mungo’s?”

“That’s right, I have a separate facility near Diagon Alley where I do private research.”

“Then how did you know I lived with…”

“You and your husband lead a very public life, Mr Potter, or you did before your mishap.”

Harry studied the man’s face again with renewed interest. “He said we don’t. We don’t even wear our…” Harry stood and looked toward the door. The ache to see Draco warred with his obligation to stay put.

The man held up his palms in a gesture of peace. “No disrespect intended, I assure you. I should be about my job now and stop causing you distress.” He pulled a tray of various instruments toward him. “May I have your left arm, please?"

As the man advanced, Harry felt panic creep into his mind for the first time. His stomach suddenly churned uncomfortably. He pressed a hand against it and fell back into the chair as his eyes failed him again. Objects lost their clarity until the room was made up of swirling colours and one watery voice. 

“Everything all right, Mr Potter?”

It took more effort than it should have to turn his head and search for the abandoned breakfast tray. “The tea…” Harry managed, trying to make his sluggish body respond as cold sweat broke out over his face and neck. He slipped forward in his chair. “The fucking tea!”

The sound of cold laughter was the last thing Harry heard before he sank into darkness.

~*~

"Security breach!" Butler yelled into his wand as Draco uttered the code to set off the silent alarm throughout the hospital. They ran together, passing startled strangers and Draco's colleagues. 

The Hospital itself seemed to come alive, but Draco barely noticed the magical barriers appearing at every doorway. He slowed his pace only when Butler’s hand closed around his arm. A foal Patronus galloped toward them and an unfamiliar voice radiated from it.

“We’ve got them both: Imposter being transported to Quarantine wing on the second floor – room D. Potter is unconscious but otherwise sound. The emergency team is seeing to him presently. Red mask found in Potter’s room.”

Draco took a few more steps toward the corridor that would lead him to Harry when he found Butler blocking his path.

“Come with me,” Butler ordered.

Draco blinked and shook head. He wanted Butler to understand, but the words wouldn’t come out right. “No. Harry. I need to…”

“Draco, _I_ need you to identify Zabini, if that’s who it is. If we’re right, I want you there. He might talk to you, give us what we need to help Harry.”

The thought of anyone else’s hands on Harry and the millions of possible horrible things Blaise could have done to the man he loved, kept Draco’s feet pointed in the same direction. His head hurt with the heavy decision.

Butler clapped his hands around Draco’s shoulders. 

“The staff are with him now—your people—good people, Draco. Let’s you and I go get the one responsible for this mess.”

A simple nod and Draco was moving with Butler toward the private lifts, anger fuelling his every stride. If Blaise was behind it all, the Aurors might not have enough left to arrest when the ‘meeting’ was over. A cold smile appeared on Draco’s lips at the thought.

 

~*~

“He’s coming to. Mr Potter, can you hear me?”

“Ow.”

Harry tried to focus on the voice, but the pain was overwhelming. He clenched his teeth to keep from crying out. An image of Draco appeared. He was smiling, his fingers reaching out to slide through Harry’s hair. Harry dove deeper into the memory as warmth surrounded him. He wanted to stay there with those gentle hands and warm lips.

“He’s slipping. Drop the compression field now!”

_Flashing lights out of the corner of his eye, pulled Harry’s attention away from the man below him. “The Floo. Draco, we’re getting a call.”_

_“I’m otherwise occupied,” Draco said, making his point with cool toes along the underside of Harry’s feet._

_Harry raised himself to his hands and knees as the lamp flashed again. “I’m not arguing with you, but what if it’s important?”_

_“I’m important, Potter. Get your arse back over here. That’s a good boy.”_

_Harry smiled and obeyed, but his thoughts lingered on the call. “Everyone knows better than to call me on Halloween, so maybe it’s something…” Draco cut him off with a kiss._

_“Focus. Listen, if someone wants us that desperately, they’ll come to the door.”_

_The knocking that began before Draco had finished his sentence would have made Harry laugh if he hadn’t been looking down at his very irritated lover._

_“Dumbledore’s fucking sweets!” Draco yelled up to the ceiling. “It had better be something monumental, or someone is getting hexed straight to the moon!” He half-heartedly pushed at Harry’s chest. “Get off me. I’ll deal with this.”_

_Harry rolled to the side, grabbing the sheet on the way. He watched Draco, flushed, naked and angry grab his dressing gown and storm out of the room. He almost felt bad for whomever was on the other side of the door._

_Almost._

_Harry sank back into the bed to wait. His eyelids were starting to droop when Draco finally walked back into the room. His face was white and his eyes lacked focus. There was a piece of parchment crushed in his right hand. Harry bolted from the bed at the stricken look on his face. He was there to catch Draco as he fell to his knees._

_“Who is it? Harry asked him, gently, dreading the answer. “Who’s gone?”_

_“My mother.”_

Screaming. His head was exploding and someone was screaming at him. He threw up his hands to press them against his forehead, but someone forced them down again.

“Try Stasis, level three. His mind can’t take the backlash.”

“I’ve already cast level three! He’s somehow fighting it.”

“Mr Potter! If you let down your defences, we can help the pain. We need to put you to sleep for your own safety.”

The pain swelled in intensity as he fought to make sense out of all the words being spoken around him. He didn’t think he had the capacity to fight anything, but still, he tried to clear his thoughts, drop any defences he might be holding in place.

More voices and then numbness travelled slowly over him, masking the pain, but making his thoughts sluggish and muddled.

“Drums,” Harry slurred, thankful that the pain had fallen to a manageable level. “I hear drums.”

~*~

 

Draco waved his hand at the chair from the corner and it flew up behind the intruder. All it took was one jab from his finger to topple the man down into the seat.

Draco narrowed his focus, attempting to see the face he knew was underneath the magic. A quick waver—a flash of a bald pate, and Draco had his man. "I know it's you, Zabini. Where is it?"

The glamour fell away. 

"I need to stop underestimating you, it seems," Blaise drawled, seemingly bored. 

"You deal with me, now, and I'll give you to my good friend, Butler, here. You keep playing thick and I'll make sure to send your mother whichever bits are left."

“Auror presence is protection,” Blaise said, shifting his eyes momentarily to where Butler was leaning beside the door. “Your threats are wasted, Draco.”

Draco moved closer and lowered his voice. “Threats are no longer on the menu. I think you may deserve something more substantial for nearly killing the man I love.” Draco pulled back slightly. “I assume you know Auror Butler, Harry’s partner?”

Blaise met Draco’s gaze with emotionless eyes and the ghost of a smirk on his lips. “You have no proof I did anything.”

Butler took that moment to over-dramatise a yawn. “Tracking you down is tiring work, Zabini. I’m going to close my eyes over here for a few minutes. Whatever happens or doesn’t happen while I’m resting is no concern of mine.”

The smirk slid from Blaise’s lips and appeared on Draco’s. 

“So let’s have it,” Draco ordered, his voice cold and sharp. Here’s your chance to be a gentleman and perhaps leave this room whole.”

Blaise straightened his back. "Be clear, Draco. What do you want?"

Draco’s patience shattered. He thrust his wand tip under Blaise's chin and pushed up. "His blood! You fucking took his blood! Where is it?"

~*~

_“Harry, look at the glass of water!”_

_The ripples. I know. It happens every time we watch it.”_

_“Shhh! I love this part!”_

_“I have no idea why you love this film so much.” Harry pondered aloud, just before several pieces of popcorn hit him on the head._

_“Shush. The T-Rex is closing in, and they all just sit there!” He threw another handful at the telly. “RUN!”_

_Harry chuckled. “Do you think they used drums to get that ripple effect?” he asked, snacking on a bit of kernel picked off the sofa._

_Draco kept his eyes on the TV screen. “No. I looked it up.”_

_Harry laughed. “Where?”_

_“I read it on that Muggle film data-box website.”_

_Harry crossed his feet on the coffee table. “And?” Draco paused the film long enough to give Harry the _get your feet off the table_ look. Harry contemplated leaving them there to see what would happen, but he liked sex too much to delay Draco’s favourite film and annoy him even longer. Once the offending feet were back on the rug, Draco answered._

_“They plucked the strings of an electric bass guitar. The low frequency creates the water in the glass to ripple.”_

_“Cool.”_

_They watched for a few more minutes before Draco reached again to press pause on the remote._

_“It’s amazing what they do without magic, isn’t it? I know it’s not possible, but can you imagine a world where Wizards and Muggles could handle each other’s knowledge?”_

_“I think that would be brilliant, but we both know it would probably end up like this.” Harry said, pointing at the frozen screen showing two Velociraptors tearing up the kitchen._

_“Would we be the raptors or the little girl?”_

_“What’s this really about?” Harry asked._

_Draco startled him with a brilliant kiss, but followed it up with an equally jarring elbow to the ribs as he readjusted himself on the sofa. “Shut it and watch the dinosaurs, Potter.”_

_“I think it’s time to admit you might have an addiction,” Harry teased, reaching across to grab the popcorn away._

_“I have no idea what you’re on about,” Draco said with a straight face, stealing the bowl back again._

__

~*~

Blaise shrugged. “I wasn’t able to extract a usable amount.”

“Bollocks.”

"I just wanted enough to analyze, enough to determine if he truly is different from the rest of us." 

Draco’s own blood was rushing, pounding in his ears as his heart hammered. “You think he’s – what – some kind of creature for you to experiment on?”

Blaise tilted his head and gazed at Draco with something akin to curiosity. “You can’t tell me you’ve never wondered at his luck, his character, his magic?”

Draco forced the words out through his teeth. “Skill and mettle have nothing to do with blood.” 

“Perhaps, but how would one know if it was never examined?” Blaise asked, crossing his legs and ignoring the wand still pushing against his skin.

"And then what?” Draco asked. “You wouldn't risk something this big unless it had significant payoff."

"I won't lie, I knew there were thousands of possibilities, several ways to turn a profit – people who would pay dearly for even a drop of their saviour."

"Get to the point."

"That's all I'm giving you."

Draco pressed closer. "I'm not giving you a choice, Zabini. No one has any right to do what you did. Count yourself extremely fortunate I'm even giving you this opportunity."

Blaise had the audacity to laugh. "Oh, please. Years ago, maybe, but you don't have it in you now to do much damage. You’re a Healer, for Salazar’s sake. I wager you don’t have the stomach to take up torture in your place of business."

Draco took a deep breath and tried to imagine what Harry would do in his place, had the tables been turned. Aurors and Healers were both bound to protect, to not do harm. Blaise knew that, but Draco had something that Harry would never have – superb masking skills. He kept his eye contact steady while trailing his wand tip down to settle in-between Blaise’s legs. 

"Do you really want to make that wager, Blaise? If Harry doesn't make a full recovery, I won't think twice about making you suffer."

"That's exactly why you won't hurt me, and you know it, Draco. As far as you know, I might be the only one who can cure him. You won't risk it."

Draco pulled his wand back and walked behind the chair. He bent forward until his mouth was hovering next to Blaise’s ear. “Think back, Blaise. Think on sixth and seventh year. I don’t recall you risking your reputation, your future or your life. You know what I’m willing to do to protect what’s mine. If you’re bluffing, you’ll never again see the outside world.” 

~*~

 

Thank you for your comments! I love reading them! *hugs*


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **_Harry took a breath and told the truth. “I like what you’ve done with your life. Do you know how amazing it is to watch you with your patients? Watching you work makes me want to be a better Auror.”_ **
> 
> **_“Thank you. Quite the compliment, but less romantic than I was expecting from a Gryffindor.”  
> _ **

Harry drifted away from the roar of dinosaurs even as he wished he could stay, content to spend a hundred Friday nights alone with Draco. A jab of pain burned along his leg as he fell, out of control, into another memory. He clamped his teeth together as the burning increased.

_“Third time this week, Potter. Perhaps you left Auror training prematurely?”_

_Harry cracked open his eyes, and Draco came into focus. “Maybe I missed your bedside manner, Healer Malfoy.”_

_“Charming. Leg.”_

_“God, that really stings.”_

_“Hold still. I won’t be able to numb the receptors until I know if there’s nerve damage or not.”_

_“Add this visit to the coffee we had on Sunday, and your Floo call last night and we’re nearly living together,” Harry teased, trying to move their still-drying friendship to the next level. He knew it was probably too soon, but his heart – as well as other impatient parts of him – wanted to move things along sooner than later._

_Draco snorted. “If your idea of romance is a chance encounter in the tea room and a professional check-up call from your Healer, I’d say you’re needing more than your leg examined.”_

_Harry held up a finger. “You’re forgetting about that time you kissed me when you were supposed to be examining my injury in the line of duty.”_

_Draco lifted his eyebrows. “That, would never happen.”_

_Harry looked up through his messy fringe. “The examination isn’t over yet.”_

_“Pathetic, but mildly charming,” Draco said, as a faint smile appeared. He flicked his wand. A blue light slid from the tip and sank into the wound. Harry’s grin was interrupted by a painful throb. He muttered a few swear words._

_“How long will it burn like this?”_

_“At the rate you’re going?” Draco asked, shaking his head at the readings that appeared in front of him. “Tell me, do you actually go running head-on into danger, or are you just rubbish at your job?”_

_Harry pulled in a breath through clenched teeth as the burning sensation increased. “I shouldn’t admit this to you, but I did jump in front of Tyler tonight. He’s fresh out of training and wasn’t shielding,” he explained, almost forgetting the pain long enough to laugh at Draco’s eye roll._

_“Carling Tyler? Isn’t he your partner?”_

_“No, this,” Harry gestured to his leg, “is courtesy of his brother, Hamilton. He’s something to look at, but no head for the job – not yet, anyway. Carling transferred to Plymouth. I lost a good partner, but he found a wife there, so…”_

_Draco trailed his wand above the wound once more. Without another word, Harry could feel the tingling and numbing of the healing process. He let go the breath he’d been holding._

_“Thanks.”_

_“Who’s your new partner?”_

_“Bloke named Butler. Don’t know much yet, except he starts next week, comes with high praise from Newcastle and he’s a ginger.”_

_“Of course he is.”_

_“Seriously, though. If I take a few days off, will that be rest enough?”_

_Draco looked up. “You’ll need to be here overnight, but the damage is manageable. You should be back to throwing yourself in front of the next curse by tea time tomorrow.”_

_“That’s good.”_

_“Big plans?” Draco asked absently, turning to his notes and pressing his wand to the surface._

_“I hope so.” He watched as Draco tucked a few strands of fine hair behind his ear, only to have them slip forward again. A thought struck him. “Dinner?”_

_“Certainly. I’ll send something up for you in a moment.”_

_“No, I’m fine. I meant tomorrow night. I want to go out for dinner.”_

_“Move up,” Draco ordered, helping Harry into position at the head of the bed and pulling a warm blanket over his legs. “Just try not to hurt yourself.” He locked eyes with Harry. “Show up one more time during my shift, and people really will start talking, Potter.”_

_There was only a second of doubt before Harry pushed it aside and touched Draco’s hand. “I hope they do talk. If tomorrow’s no good, you pick the time and place and I’ll be there.” Wide, grey eyes stared back at him._

_“What?”_

_Harry squeezed the fingers that were still tucked under his. “Go out with me.”  
Harry thought Draco looked rather stunned as he sat down on the edge of the bed. _

_“How do you know I’m not already seeing someone?”_

_“If you are, nobody who works in Spell Damage knows about it. I asked.”_

_Draco sprung to his feet and pulled his hand away. “Salazar’s fucking pants! You asked my colleagues? Do you not have any professional discretion?”_

_“Relax, I just asked Kelly. She’s been around the Weasley’s a few times with Percy. I am serious about dinner, though. If you’ll have me.”_

_“I’m your Healer, Auror Potter. I have a duty…”_

_Harry relished the look of shock on Draco’s face as he wordlessly glamoured the room to look like a cosy parlour. The door became a crackling fireplace, Harry’s bed shifted into an overstuffed sofa, and the lighting faded to something soft and romantic rather than clinical._

_Harry smiled and offered his hand. “Just for a moment, let’s pretend that Auror Potter and Healer Malfoy are somewhere else. Let’s just be Harry and Draco. Please, sit.”_

_Draco watched him closely, searching for any trace of deception or set-up. A shiver slid across Harry’s shoulders as he found he quite liked being under Draco’s full attention. He couldn’t deny the nerves, but he pushed them away, even with his empty hand stretched between them. He couldn’t help the grin that surfaced when Draco’s palm finally slid against his and the sofa dipped with the extra weight. Draco reclaimed his hand shortly after, but Harry still counted it a win._

_“What happened to that Keeper from the Wasps?”_

_Harry shrugged. “He was fun to be around, but that’s all it really was – fun, but no substance. He wasn’t right for me.”_

_“Well, I’d say we have more ‘history’ than actual substance between us.” Draco looked toward the fire and seemed to lose himself somewhere in the dance of the fake flames. “We’ve been like fire and water most of our lives. Anything beyond civility would be tempting fate.”_

_“I do that for a living.”_

_Draco licked his lips and Harry couldn’t look away from the sight. “We can hardly get through coffee without a row. What makes you think we would be romantically compatible?”_

_Harry shrugged. “Ok. That’s fair.” He fought to keep his expression neutral, but he could feel the pull of victory. “Kiss me now, just to be sure. If there’s nothing there, we’ll know soon enough, right?”_

_Draco’s relaxed visage vanished. “What? This is somewhat flattering, but you need to rest up and I have a job to get back to.”_

_“Agreed. You’re also stalling.”_

_“Potter, don’t assume…”_

_“Sorry, you’re right. ”_

_“Come again?”_

_“I had to try, but it’s clear you have someone else you’re interested in”, Harry bluffed. “He’s a lucky guy.” Harry stayed quiet until he was sure Draco was watching the show he was putting on – lowered head, laboured breath out, teeth pulling on his bottom lip. He raised his eyes slowly._

_Draco huffed, a small grin escaping. “You truly are pathetic.”_

_Harry grinned. “Is it working?”_

_“Possibly. What’s another word for pathetic?”_

_“Hopeless?” Harry offered._

_Draco shook his head. “Fine, one kiss.”_

_Harry felt the brief press of closed lips against his own before Draco was moving away again. Harry caught his wrist and gently pulled him back._

_He cupped Draco’s face, chin rough with too many hours on the job, and closed the distance. When he felt Draco exhale, warm against his mouth, he brushed their lips together, trying to draw out the moment as if it might be the only one they were going to have. His fingers slid back through the hair he’d been itching to touch, the strands slipping against his skin like water. A soft moan of approval escaped Draco’s lips – the sound flash-frying Harry’s self control – but Harry somehow managed to hold himself in check. He waited, eyes closed and holding as still as possible. He knew Draco would be worth it._

_Apparently, Draco didn’t want to play it that way._

_“I thought you wanted a kiss, Potter.” Harry opened his eyes to the filthiest smirk he’d ever seen. He was suddenly very warm and incredibly interested the change of tempo. It stoked the torch burning somewhere below and narrowed his focus. He closed his hands into fists, trapping soft hair between his fingers and couldn’t help giving a firm tug to see if Draco would make any more of those delicious noises._

_He did._

_“What do you think, Malfoy?”_

_“Then stop stalling and take it.”_

~*~

Blaise glowered as Draco stepped back into his line of sight. "I won’t tell you anything if your wand stays where it is. Accidents have been known to happen. It would be a shame if you end up in prison when you could be enjoying the rest of your life." 

"The troll dropping may have a point," Butler offered. Draco forced himself to take a step back.

"I know you won't believe me," Blaise continued, his empty eyes betraying his soft words. "I never intended any harm. It was all just – business." He even tried a faint smile at the end to aid his case. 

Draco absorbed the words and rolled them around just long enough to remember some very good advice from the man who was hanging on the wall of his office. 

Blaise's face contorted in pain as Draco's wand tip flicked downward. It had been years since Draco had cause to use the spell to shrink someone’s pants, but under the circumstances, he congratulated himself for the brainwave. There were hundreds of nastier hexes and curses that came to mind, but he wasn’t going to break his Healer’s oath with an Auror in the room. As if reading his mind, Butler stepped out of the shadows while muttering an incantation. Ropes slithered out of the chair before Blaise had a chance to move.

"If you want the ropes gone, and your pants back to normal size, tell me what Goyle has to do with your business ventures," Butler demanded.

Blaise's eyes were still on Draco, ignoring the Auror, and trying to conceal his discomfort. "Nothing. He's just the thick bloke standing too close to the vault when the jewels go missing."

Draco lowered himself to a knee to make level eye contact. "So the whole Red Mask fiasco was to point us toward him, and not you,” he reasoned. He looked at Butler. “Goyle’s innocent."

Blaise choked out a laugh. "He's an idiot stray pup who needed a master!” he growled, leaning into the ropes. “I took him on for a while, but there's nothing more in his head than an echo.” A crooked smile appeared. “I thought you might take him off my hands for me."

Draco shook his head. "You’re pathetic. Don't expect to be walking free after all this information you've offered up from your businessman's heart."

Blaise glowered. He bent forward as much as the restraints allowed and spoke only for Draco’s ears. "That's exactly what I expect, if you decide you want your husband back with his wits intact."

~*~

_  
They both pulled back a little suddenly from the kiss, staring at each other, open-mouthed and panting as if all the air had left the room. Draco’s wet lips caught the light from the fire and Harry, heart pounding, couldn’t look anywhere else._

_“There are some who won’t approve,” Draco whispered, teasing gone, his breath making Harry’s glasses mist up for a few seconds before everything became clear once more._

_Harry’s thumb stroked the fabric covering Draco’s knee, and tried to breathe normally. “I don’t care. Go out with me – just one time. If you don’t want anything more after that, I’ll respect your choice.”_

_When Draco’s hand lifted to find a home against Harry’s cheek, his heart beat just a little faster._

_“And you’re sure it’s me that you want?”_

_Harry closed his eyes for a moment and turned into the contact, savouring the cool fingers against his skin. “I know it was ages ago, but do you remember what we talked about after your trial?”_

_Draco lowered his hand, but stayed close. “Yes.”_

_Harry took a breath and told the truth. “I like what you’ve done with your life. Do you know how amazing it is to watch you with your patients? Watching you work makes me want to be a better Auror.”_

_“Thank you. Quite the compliment, but less romantic than I was expecting from a Gryffindor.”_

_Harry laughed, warm and deep. “I think you already know how hot you are– even in that stupid cardie with your hair falling into your eyes when you look down. That sound you made when I pulled your hair… God, Draco, I would put up with two years of training Auror recruits to hear that again. I’m not sure I’m good at ‘romantic’, but I needed to ask you out. I couldn’t wait any more.”_

_He gave up talking and moved in for another kiss. Their first had been more of a declaration of intentions, a claiming of space and somewhat of a heated battle. This one was a Sunday afternoon in comparison. They explored, questioned and found a fit that caused hands to wander and hungry sounds to slip free. It awakened Harry’s heart and whispered a hundred unspoken promises. He knew it was way too early to be sharing this kind of a kiss, but as Draco’s tongue slid against his, he didn’t care one bit._

_Harry was lost._

_He smiled against perfect lips. “This is going to sound so daft, but I could do with a thousand more of those. I might not be able to let you go now.”_

_“Now that was romantic, Potter.”_

_“So, compatible, then?”_

_“Be at the Black Trumpet by nine thirty tomorrow night.”_

_“Yes, Sir.”_

_“And Potter?”_

_“Mmm?”_

_“Wear a tie.”_

~*~

It was nearing sunset when Blaise had been escorted off hospital property to his temporary residence in the bowels of the Ministry to await trial. Draco held up the small vial and inspected the contents. Blood – Harry’s blood. After two meticulous hospital-wide searches for DNA traces and Harry’s magical signature, it was all that had surfaced – tucked into a potted plant near where Blaise had been apprehended. A scan of Blaise himself had come up clean, leaving the authorities and Draco to assume that this small amount was all that Zabini had time to extract. 

Draco set the bottle down and rubbed at his eyes. His fucking, long day was far from over, but he was able to take comfort in the fact that the latest numbers from Harry’s room looked promising: sleeping but stable, heart normal, breathing steady and minimal physical damage caused from Harry’s own flailing and the obvious puncture where Blaise had used the syringe.

“Did some extracting of my own,” Draco confessed aloud.

“Hmmm?”

“I called his bluff, Severus. I promised that Butler would work out a deal with the Aurors if Blaise told me how to heal Harry.”

“And he believed you?”

“I may have implied that blood-theft has been moved to the list of Kiss-worthy sentences for those who already have convictions in blood-related offences.”

“Twenty points to Slytherin.”

Draco smiled through his exhaustion. “Thank you, Sir.”

“And yet, you remain here, instead of storming into Potter’s room to save the day.” 

“It seems Blaise truly was bluffing,” Draco admitted, rubbing at his neck. “We kept at him for hours, and the most he confessed to was lacing Harry’s tea with an extract of Jabberknoll feathers.”

“He knowingly sent Potter into backlash. That will win him no support at trial.”

“Yes, but that was all he had to offer. No simple fix, no reverse spell – no cure.”

“And Mr Goyle?”

“Nothing. He’s a drunken idiot, but harmless. Butler gave him quite the scare an hour ago, but there was no proof to back up Zabini’s claims, and no signs of altered memories. Other than being furious at Blaise for handing him over to the Aurous, he had nothing to offer.” Draco rubbed at his forehead and contemplated trying to sleep for a few minutes. He was wrecked and felt as if he was back at the starting gate with nothing to guide him to the finish. 

“You’ve scaled larger barriers.”

And that was true, he thought, letting his head fall against the back of his chair, eyes closed. He and Harry had faced their share of battles and had always come out the other side, but Draco was tiring of the fight. He honestly didn’t know if he would have the strength to tell the man he loved that a full recovery may very well be impossible. It was nearly over – that thought alone gave him hope – but the victory felt hollow. His chest tightened when he began imagining all the work that was still ahead of them.

“Was Zabini at least correct in his hypothesis of Potter’s blood?”

“Hmm?”

“The analysis, boy! Does Potter’s blood contain any anomalies worth the fuss that has been made over it?”

And there it was, simple and obvious. He opened his eyes and made a note to kick himself later for the oversight. He tapped his wand against the glass of the tiny bottle and began reading the multicoloured report that blinked to life in front of him.

~*~


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Fragments of what must have been the past few days flickered around in his brain: fake Healer, tea, pain, thrashing, compressors that blocked magic... Suddenly, reason for the restraints surfaced, and his heart thundered while his mind caught up. He frantically looked around the room and laughed unexpectedly when his eyes landed on a mural of Unicorns playing in an orchard that displayed pink trees growing blue fruit. Whatever had happened while he was tossing around in his memories, he appeared to be safe now, unless St Mungo’s maternity wing had been transformed into an evil lair. It was the last place anyone would expect to find him – it had Draco written all over it.**

Harry ached everywhere. It wasn’t a long jump to assume he was back in the real world. He forced his heavy eyelids open, fearing the next flashback and yet half-hoping to find himself having tea with Hermione and Ron or better yet, back flirting with Draco on their first date. He moved to wipe the sleep from his eyes and started to panic when he couldn’t. He rattled the restraints locking his arms in place. Nothing. He reached for his magic and the straps vanished. If there was ever a time to remember the hours of escape practice he had endured during Auror training…

Auror training. He remembered.

Fragments of what must have been the past few days flickered around in his brain: fake Healer, tea, pain, thrashing, compressors that blocked magic... Suddenly, reason for the restraints surfaced, and his heart thundered while his mind caught up. He frantically looked around the room and laughed unexpectedly when his eyes landed on a mural of Unicorns playing in an orchard that displayed pink trees growing blue fruit. Whatever had happened while he was tossing around in his memories, he appeared to be safe now, unless St Mungo’s maternity wing had been transformed into an evil lair. It was the last place anyone would expect to find him – it had Draco written all over it.

Draco.

As if he’d been summoned, Draco stepped inside, pointed his wand over his shoulder and locked the door behind him. Harry’s heart ached at Draco’s appearance. He looked liked he’d been through several wars without sleep, but the relief that transformed his face when their eyes met – Harry would keep that memory with him forever.

“I remember,” Harry blurted, and sat up too quickly. He winced, but Draco’s fingers were suddenly there, cool on his temples, soft along the skin under his eyes and so desperately welcome along his jaw, just holding – finally familiar.  
“I’m so sorry,” he blurted, relieved just to have Draco close again. “I was an absolute shit…” Draco pulled him in.

“Shush.”

And Harry did, returning the embrace with everything he had. He’d forgotten how good it felt, tucking his face into the space between Draco’s chin and shoulder, the scent of him, the way Draco’s hair seemed to be made only for Harry to run his fingers through. He absorbed the realness of Draco against him – bones, muscles, and skin – something the memories and dreams didn’t quite get right.

It seemed like such a gift to have it all again, and more so to actually know what was happening to him. The thought that it could have been lost forever made him shudder. Draco smoothed down the back of Harry’s hair briefly and slowly pulled out of the embrace. A million thoughts ran through Harry’s mind, but what came from his mouth was, “Hi.”

Draco’s laughter filled the room. He brushed a tear away. “Gods, do you know how good it is to see you?”

“Yes,” Harry choked out, cupping the back of Draco’s head and pulling him in for a kiss. “Yes. Fuck, I’ve missed you.”

“Here now,” Draco whispered, laying his fingers over Harry’s. “You’re still in recovery, but I think the worst is behind us.”

Harry sobered. “You put yourself through hell. Why didn’t you let Erastus take me from the beginning?”

“I wasn’t about to let you go through this alone. You would have done the same damn thing if it had been me, and you know it.” Draco said, wearing a look that challenged Harry to deny it.

Harry caved. “Yeah, I would have.”

“Now who’s daft?”

“The pair of us.”

Between tears and kisses, Draco filled in the blanks of the story from the red mask diversion to Blaise’s plan to sell Harry’s blood.

“Fucker,” Harry cursed. “Do you believe him – about my blood?”

“I hate to break it to you, but other than having a home within you, your blood is just as boring as everyone else’s. There are no variations and no special magical properties worth noting. You, good sir, are common – on a haematological level.”

“It could have still been used against me. I don’t even want to think about what could have happened. You’ve got it, though?” Draco pulled the vial from his pocket and handed it over.

“The trouble you caused,” Harry said to the bottle, rolling it between his fingers. Draco’s touch pulled his attention away.

“There are a few things you need to know.”

Harry knew that look. “Bad news, then?”

Draco smiled, but Harry could tell he was treading lightly. “Nothing we can’t handle.” 

Harry decided to follow his instincts. “It’s about my job, isn’t it?”

“Yes.”

“I’m sacked?”

“Retired from active duty. I’m sorry.”

As much as he had feared the news, a part of him was slightly relieved. “I knew it was a possibility. Can’t very well be out in the field if another backlash comes along. Fuck. How’s Butler?”

Draco ran a hand through his hair. “He’s been my rock, actually – helped me keep my head through the worst of it, and let me take the lead with Blaise.”

“Good man. If my brain doesn’t snap to, remind me to thank him later.” He took a moment, afraid to ask the next question, but then went ahead anyway. “Does he have a new partner?”

Draco surprised him with a quick kiss, and flicked his wand at the door. “Ask him yourself, Potter.”

Butler strode in, grinning. “Official Auror business!”

It felt good to laugh. “You better have a pint hidden in those robes, Butler!” Harry teased as they clasped arms.

“Sorry, had to drink yours to keep up my strength.”

Draco pulled up a chair for him, and then moved toward the door. “I’ll be right back,” he said to Harry. “I need to check on Erastus and look into taking you home.”

There was an instant of panic, a part of Harry that wasn’t keen on watching Draco walk away. Something in his expression must have given him away, because Draco was suddenly there, pulling the chain out from under his shirt and reaching for Harry’s. When Draco’s ring finally hung back where it always had before, Draco closed Harry’s fingers around it. 

“I’m right here.”

Harry nodded and started to breath again. He felt foolish, having Butler there, watching his spool of control unravel as Draco walked away, but then he pushed the embarrassment aside. If anyone, Butler understood better than most would have.

He turned to his friend. “Thank you, for everything. Draco said that you…”

“Glad to do it. It felt good to lend the shoulder this time.”

Harry nodded. “So, who’s on your wish list for the next partner?”

”I’m transferring out of field duty, actually,” Butler said, scratching at his day old stubble. “Wanted you to be the first to know.”

“Are you sure?” Harry asked, sitting up straighter. “None of this was your fault. I’ll make a statement for…”

Butler waved him off and produced one of his trademark grins. “No doubt you would put on a good show, but no need.”

Harry chuckled at the performance. “What have you got?”

“Teaching the hatchlings, if you can believe it.”

“Auror trainees?” Harry asked. It was a good fit. Butler was patient, even-tempered and more than qualified. “I think you’ll be brilliant.”

Butler gave him a nod of thanks. “Palls and Gardner are moving abroad, so two vacancies came up. It’s supposed to be hush-hush, but word has it they’re holding the last post for you, if you want it.”

“Me?”

Butler stood and clapped him on the shoulder. “Just think on it, Harry. It would be brilliant to keep working together, but no worries if you go another path. It’s just good to see you alive and well.”

“Thank you.”

“And Floo me when that hadsome Healer of yours clears you for the pub.”

Harry laughed and shook his hand. “I will do.”

~*~

Draco stood at the kitchen window and looked out toward Mrs Weasley’s favourite tree. Harry and Teddy sat beneath it, carrying on an animated conversation with the sun sinking behind them. Two silhouettes, unaware that night was creeping up. It was a shame that such a heartwarming scene stirred something uncomfortable within him. It wasn’t quite the burn of jealousy, maybe something closer to loneliness. 

“Harry’s so good with him,” Hermione observed, slipping a cup of tea into Draco’s hand.

“Thank you,” Draco said, watching Harry drape an arm over Teddy’s shoulders. “I didn’t think this curse would have any benefits, but trust Harry to find the treasure under the pile of Troll droppings.”

“What do you mean?”

Draco gestured vaguely at the tree. “His relationship with Theodore. Before the accident, Harry was just his godfather, someone he’s grown to love, but an adult, like the rest of us. Now that Harry’s relived everything, it’s new again, fresh in his mind. Teddy’s seen himself in the twelve year-old orphan Harry was, and it’s connected them in a way no other adult could manage.”

“You’ve given this a lot of thought.”

_Too much._ “It’s my job.”

“How is he, really?” 

“The odd episode here and there, but his recovery has been better than expected, actually.”

“And you?”

It was the same question Draco kept asking himself. He was fine, they both were, but something was off. He just wished he knew whether it was temporary or not. He should have been thrilled to have Harry back, elated that they had this rare second chance, but Harry’s behaviour was decidedly different. He kept up a good game for the first while, but Draco knew him too well to believe that everything was back the way it had been. The only time Harry seemed to come alive was when Teddy came around. There were times when it felt almost like it had before, moments when Harry would reach out for Draco’s hand while he read the morning post, or smile at something Draco had said, but then it would be gone, snatched away by the sadness that always crept into his eyes before Draco could make the moment stay. It felt like getting to the top of a hill, only to find a string of larger mountains yet to be conquered.

“I have another two weeks of leave, and then it’s back to my little corner of Spell Damage.”

“That’s not what I meant, Draco.”

“I know.” His tea was already starting to cool, so he finished the cup before answering. Hermione, to her credit, stood beside him and lifted her own cup, giving him space. They had never spent a considerable amount of time alone together, but he was glad now for the company. She knew Harry in a way few others did, and was one of the first to give Draco a chance when he and Harry had decided to make a go of it. 

He trusted her.

“His first Friday home, I was setting up for Muggle film night and he says he needs to go for a walk. Before I can join him, he’s gone, and I’m sitting there with the popcorn like an idiot. He didn’t come home until after midnight. Some part of me knew it was going to be an adjustment, but I didn’t want to believe it. I just wanted him back, and foolishly thought everything could go back to the way it was before.”

“Have you talked to him?”

“I’ve tried, but it makes him uncomfortable. Maybe it’ll change once we start sleeping again. We’re both battling nightmares, but they’ve been fewer lately. I can’t complain. It’s good to have him home. More than I can say for Severus.”

She nearly dropped her cup. “You brought him home with you? God, Draco!”

He tried to mask his smile, but Hermione’s look of shock made the corners of his mouth twitch. “I’ve been told by the hospital staff that he can be difficult when I’m not there.”

“I just hope he’s not in the bedroom!”

They shared a smile and a few more minutes of silence before Draco gave some more thought to his situation with Harry.

“Perhaps it’s cabin fever. Once I go back to work, we won’t be stepping over each other.” She nodded and passed him the last of the red onion tarts, but he declined. 

“If either of you need a night away, you’re always welcome with us.”

He wanted to say more, to tell her how hard it was to wake up every morning with Harry on the far side of the bed, how mad he was at himself for feeling the victim, and how they hadn’t made love since Harry had been back, but all that he could manage was a strangled, “Thank you.”

She squeezed his arm, took his empty cup and left him to watch Harry and Teddy make their way back to the house in the growing darkness.

~*~

Harry ruffled Teddy’s hair, sent him off to entertain Rose and then went to join Draco in the kitchen. Pudding was long over, and yet the well-used table was still covered with tarts, pies and glazed fruit. Molly didn’t seem to believe anyone could truly be as _full_ as they claimed. 

Draco didn’t turn to greet him. It wasn’t odd behaviour, but Harry could sense something wasn’t right. 

“What is it?” he asked, placing a hand at the crook of Draco’s elbow.

Draco continued staring into the darkness. “Harry, we need to talk.”

Harry had thought he’d been careful, thought that Draco wouldn’t confront him this soon, but he shouldn’t have been surprised. Draco could read Harry like a favourite book.

“All right, but not here.”

“Home?”

“No, I think we…” Harry didn’t think he could get out all that he needed say to Draco surrounded by all their shared memories: his old chair, their tea pot with the chip, their bed… He got an idea. “Can we get a room?”

Draco turned then, eyebrows raised. “A room?”

“A hotel – just to talk. I don’t want to be home or in public right now.”

“All right.” Draco nodded to the sitting room full of Weasleys. “Let’s say our goodbyes.”

~*~

Ever since he mentioned the room, Harry could sense Draco was predicting the worst. He’d been silent the entire trip there, running his hands over the legs of his trousers, pulling at his pockets, looking anywhere but at Harry. Now he sat in the too-clean suite, back straight and hands pressed to his knees, eyes on the floor.

Harry pulled his chair forward and gave Draco’s leg a squeeze. “Breathe, Draco. You aren’t on trial.” Draco looked up with hollow eyes, and Harry hated himself for putting that look on his face. 

“You’re ending it,” Draco said, softly. “We’re done, aren’t we?”

“No,” Harry said, sounding confident, but Draco’s eyes slid away. He tried again. “Listen to me. I still love you. I don’t think that part could ever change for me.”

“Then what is it?”

Harry left his chair to kneel in front of Draco, one hand still resting on his knee. “I honestly don’t know.” He looked up. “Something’s shifted.”

Draco reached out and began running his fingers over Harry’s hair, smoothing, massaging, using the time to let them both think.

“You’re unhappy?”

“No. Yes…” He closed his eyes and tried to focus on the slide of fingers through his hair. “It’s hard to put in words.”

“Try. Take your time.”

Harry kept his eyes closed and tried to put his circling thoughts in order. He took a deep breath and decided to just let the words flow. 

“In that last backlash, nearly everything came back, but all the memories of the attack, thinking I was Muggle again, everything that happened in hospital, I have all those experiences too. I didn’t even realise it at the time, but you and I had roles before, things we did that made our relationship the way it was. But then the attack happened.” Harry opened his eyes and looked up at Draco. “I was a boy again, and you were my Healer, my teacher, my protector. Now, I’m home, but I’m not sure what my role is anymore.”

“I understand.”

“There’s more. I keep thinking about what happened with you that day I lost control. What I did… I almost forced you – _was_ going to force you if you hadn’t left. I didn’t think I’d ever go over the line like that, not with you.”

“You were…”

“It doesn’t matter. There’s no excuse for what I did. Nobody means more to me than you do, and I was going to throw that away for a fuck, Draco. And then I come home, things slip my mind and I can see your disappointment, feel you watching me like a Healer. What if I get worse again? How is that fair to you?”

Draco reached down and collected Harry’s hands in his. “For better or worse, Harry. With all that I’ve done in my life, trust me, I’d be a hypocrite if I didn’t forgive every time I had the chance. If you still want to try, I’m willing to walk through this together.”

“So am I, but honestly, I’m lost on how to do that,” Harry confessed, feeling the weight on his heart beginning to lift.

Draco guided Harry back into his chair. “Well, what if we started again?”

“What?”

Draco crossed his legs and settled back against his chair. “You’re right, things are different, so why don’t we discover who we are now? Take tea in the village, chat, go to the clubs and take off our clothes. Whatever we want to do,” he said, giving a vague wave of his hand. “The first time you asked me out, you said we should forget our Healer and Auror sides, and just be Harry and Draco. We could try that.”

“Start dating again?” Harry asked, liking the idea immediately. 

“Why not? I’ve got time off.” He smiled at Harry, a spark of challenge behind his eyes. “Let’s make our own rules, Potter.”

The idea was so strange and perfect; he couldn’t help but share Draco’s sudden good humour. “I’d love to see you in a club again. Remember that time with the glitter?”

Draco made a face that pulled a laugh from Harry. “Ugh. I kept finding it for months.”

When the room was quiet again, Harry made his choice and stuck out his hand. “I think this could work.”

Draco accepted the handshake and stood, pulling Harry with him. “Join me for dinner?”

“Sure. Someplace new?”

They decided to get the most out of the room and rang down for room service. For once, Harry didn’t look at the prices and Draco didn’t complain about Harry ordering two slices of strawberry cheesecake. They stretched out on the large bed, watched bad telly and blamed each other for the strawberry stain on the crisp, white pillow. 

Draco was somewhere between asleep and awake, propped up against the headboard with a round pillow stuffed under his back. Harry was beside him, enjoying the warmth, the familiarity and the newness of the whole situation. His fingers tightened around Draco’s, and Harry felt him jerk slightly.

“Did I fall asleep?”

“Not quite. Do you want to? They won’t kick us out until eleven tomorrow.”

“Aren’t you moving too fast for a first date?”

“Well, I did fall for a Slytherin. I think you must have skewed my morals.”

Draco winked. “Good show.”

Harry moved the last of the plates to safety and pulled Draco down onto the covers – clothes and all. They stayed that way, Harry on his back, and Draco resting against him, his head over Harry’s heart. A feeling of contentment grew as Harry rubbed slow circles onto the fabric of Draco’s shirt, feeling the heat of his skin reaching out to Harry’s fingertips.

~*~

Draco stared up at the giant glass roof, admiring the crisscross pattern of the metal supports. Even with scores of tourists and local patrons, the colossal size of the courtyard made everything else look miniature. He wandered over to where Harry was already thumbing through postcards, grinning like he’d found all of the ancient treasures himself.

“How have we never been here before?” Harry asked, handing over the official museum guide map. 

Draco shrugged and paid for the cards Harry had claimed. “It never came up.”

Back in the Great Court, Harry read Draco’s thoughts. “What do you want to see first?”

Draco’s index finger landed on the map. “Number thirty-three,” he announced. “What have I found?”

Somehow, Harry managed to read the legend upside down. “The Rosetta Stone.”

“Wonderful. You choose next.”

He covered Harry’s eyes and flipped the map over. Harry missed the target twice, but on the third attempt made contact. “Here. What is it?”

Draco had to squint at the writing. “The Hoxne Hoard Pepper Pot.”

Harry chuckled. “Never heard of it.”

“Sounds delicious. Onward!”

~*~

Draco waved goodbye from his spot in the corner booth, and smiled as Harry received one last hug from Andromeda and a high-five from Teddy. He slid over to the window side when Harry wandered back to the table, smiling from ear to ear.

“He’s such a great kid.”

Draco nodded, loving the way Harry beamed with pride whenever his godson was mentioned. They had never talked about children; both their careers had been too demanding, but he had a feeling Harry would have been a wonderful father.

“Did he ask you about volunteering when he gets a bit older?”

“At the hospital?”

“Yes, with children, or wherever he’s needed. Since that visit he had with me, he’s been fascinated with learning everything he can about the departments, and the staff. I think you’ll have a future Healer on your heels in a few years.”

“With his type of magic, he would be an incredible asset, although he has a talent for acting before thinking. I wonder where he picked that up?”

Harry gave him a shrug and attempted to look innocent. “You sound like his mentor already.”

“And what about you, Auror Potter? Have you given any thought to the teaching offer on the table?”

“I want to take it; I think it’s an incredible opportunity, but I’m nervous to be honest,” he confessed, turning to watch the people shuffling past the café. 

“Ease back in,” Draco offered. Start with half a day and go from there. If it’s not a good fit, we’ll make a new plan.”

When Harry didn’t answer, Draco said his name. He looked as if he’d been miles away, but he took Draco’s hand in his and gave a squeeze. 

“I want to show you something.”

Harry touched his finger to his temple until a soft light appeared. He was almost finished extracting the memory by the time Draco realized what was happening.

“Here?”

“Yeah, it’ll work,” Harry assured him, placing the memory in his empty ice-cream bowl. “I tried it out in my tea this morning. It’s the memory of the first time I held Teddy.”

“Wandless, even! You have no idea what a freak you are, Potter.”

“You married me, so I can’t be all that freakish.”

“Every freak needs a handler,” he teased.

Without warning, Harry kissed him. It was over before anyone in the shop noticed, but Draco had a feeling it was more important than Harry was letting on.

“This is working, isn’t it?” Harry asked, smiling like he had the snitch hiding in his fist.

“What is?”

Harry gestured at small space that separated them. “This – you and me. We’re going to make it.”

Draco pretended to mull it over. When Harry raised his eyebrows, Draco kissed him back and relented. “I’d put money on it,” he said before pulling the memory bowl in front of him. “Now, is this that time he spit up on you? If so, I can live without seeing that close up.”

~*~


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **“This place is supposed to be great! Besides, nobody cares about the city, once they’re in the club. Isn’t that the point?” Harry asked, moving closer to keep from shouting as the line inched forward. “We drink, we dance and we flirt…”**
> 
> **A tall, twenty-something brunette, wearing bright red trousers and a silver vest locked eyes with Harry as he brushed past, holding the gaze just long enough to be completely suggestive. Draco was suddenly blocking the view, curling cool fingers around Harry’s jaw.**
> 
> **“As long as you’re doing all of that with _me_ , Potter. Anyone else, and they’ll be leaving here slightly singed or worse.”  
> **

Draco stepped out of the alley looking sinful in ripped jeans that Harry had never seen before tonight, and a dark-grey t-shirt that he had begged Draco to wear because it clung to his body in a sinful way. The haughty expression just seemed to add to the outfit. 

Harry was a lucky man.

“Cardiff, honestly?”

The music banged away, pouring out the door and into the street. _Pump it up, until you can feel it! Pump it up, when you don’t really need it!_ Harry was already nodding his head to the beat as he wrapped his hand in Draco’s and pulled him forward. 

“This place is supposed to be great! Besides, nobody cares about the city, once they’re in the club. Isn’t that the point?” Harry asked, moving closer to keep from shouting as the line inched forward. “We drink, we dance and we flirt…”

A tall, twenty-something brunette, wearing bright red trousers and a silver vest locked eyes with Harry as he brushed past, holding the gaze just long enough to be completely suggestive. Draco was suddenly blocking the view, curling cool fingers around Harry’s jaw.

“As long as you’re doing all of that with _me_ , Potter. Anyone else, and they’ll be leaving here slightly singed or worse.”

Harry had an overwhelming urge to kiss the tight line of Draco’s lips and see if he couldn’t soften them up a bit. Judging by the little noise of surprise from Draco, it wasn’t what he had been expecting, but he caught on fast, melting against Harry in all the best ways. A not-so-discreet cough drew their attention to the fact that the line had moved ahead without them. 

They laughed and closed up the gap. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you jealous before,” Harry said, loving the splashes of colour surfacing on the skin of Draco’s neck. If Harry had weakness, his very own Kryptonite, it could be found along the path that started at the top of Draco’s shoulder and ended in that warm, soft place behind his ear.

“Hmm… If only there were a way to assure me that I don’t have to fight off the chickens for your affections,” Draco baited.

They hadn’t even stepped foot into the club, but Draco’s challenge made Harry want to latch and on and Apparate them to the nearest bed. He pulled in a slow breath and tried to decide whether to drag Draco home and mark him until they were tangled and sated, or patch up the wall of control that was showing signs of wear. He missed sex with Draco, but it was more than that. He wanted the connection, wanted so much to claim, to hold, to play, to give, but since returning home, he hadn’t been able to let go – didn’t know if Draco had truly forgiven him. He gave that thought only one more turn before the heat in Draco’s eyes convinced him.

_In for a penny…_

Harry pulled Draco closer, turning him until he was a solid presence leaning back against Harry’s chest. With the warm air kissing their skin, the press of strangers surrounding them and the filthy beat of the music adding the perfect level of intensity, Harry closed his eyes and gave himself permission to fall.

He wrapped his fingers around Draco’s wrists. “Would you like that, for everyone to know you’re mine?”

“Oh, yes.”

Harry was still sucking at the base Draco’s neck when they both popped into existence in the entrance of their flat. Draco recovered first, spinning on Harry and backing him against the empty patch of wall by the door. Harry slid his hands up Draco’s sides, taking the snug, grey t-shirt with him, forcing Draco to stop his own deliberate touches in order to get the damed thing off. Harry threw it into the darkness and then scrambled for his own buttons.

“Let me,” Draco offered, not pausing to fix the hair falling into his eyes.

Harry allowed Draco to go to work, or at least he tried to. It was almost impossible to not touch, now that he had permission. His fingers travelled low and high – one hand pressing flat against Draco’s lower back and one stroking the dip between his shoulder blades. Harry’s breath caught in his throat as Draco dragged open-mouth kisses over his chest and lower. Draco sunk to his knees and tugged at Harry’s belt.

Harry pushed Draco’s fringe back, his cock pulsing at the sight of flushed cheeks and wet lips. “Fuck, Draco.”

“Language, Potter!”

Snape. 

Harry froze. “Oh, God.”

Draco shook with silent laughter. “Take a walk, Severus.”

“I’ve a better idea. Come here.” Harry made sure Snape got an eyeful as he helped Draco to his feet and gave him a kiss that promised a thousand different endings. Harry was certain he heard a huff from Severus as he grabbed a handful of Draco’s arse and squeezed.

“Mmmm… What else have you got in mind?” Draco asked.

“Something new,” Harry answered, leading the way to the bedroom. He gripped the footboard with one hand, and slid the other around Draco’s waist. “I hope this works,” he whispered, calling silently to his magic. A soft glow surrounded them, and Harry concentrated on stretching the field to enclose the bed as well. He smiled, tightened his grip and visualized the place he wanted to be.

When the world snapped back into focus, Harry silently applauded himself on a job well done – and for not splinching them ten ways from Sunday.

“Harry…” Draco looked up at the star-covered sky then took in the sights around him. Harry nearly burst out laughing at the combined look of amazement and horror on Draco’s face. He ran to the edge of the roof, looked over the ledge, and swore. Next, he spun around and spotted the pillow of blue-green glass with the telltale dome of the reading room sticking out of the middle. He seemed to notice their bed last, in its new home on top of the British Museum.

“Holy fuck, Harry!”

“Impressed?” Harry asked, spreading his arms out to encompass the scene. He laughed at himself for being so bloody obvious, but at the same time, he didn’t think any gesture could be too over-the-top where love was involved. He watched Draco’s reactions, enjoying the progress of emotions he seemed to be cycling through. Finally, he locked eyes with Harry and walked forward with purpose. He stopped when they were just a breath apart, and then was suddenly everywhere. Between groping hands, wet kisses and harsh breathing, Draco showed his appreciation for Harry’s talents.

“I don’t care what your blood says – you are _not_ normal.”

Harry nipped along the salty skin of Draco’s shoulder. “And I’m yours, Malfoy, so what does that say about you?”

Draco pulled back for a second and laughed, warm and deep. It made Harry feel incredible. “I am a lucky, lucky man.” He gave the tip of Harry’s nose a quick kiss. “Also, I have great taste.”

“That you do,” Harry said, laughing softly, kissing Draco while casting spells that would hide them from the rest of world. “Now where were we?”

“I believe my mouth has an appointment with the front of your trousers.”

It took Draco’s fingers and lips less than a minute to stoke the fire inside Harry again. He turned his face up to the night sky and thanked whoever was up there for letting him have his life back. If it lasted a day or a hundred years, he vowed to never take it for granted again.

A cry escaped his throat as Draco’s lips closed around him. He kept his eyes closed long enough to enjoy the sensation of Draco’s mouth sliding over his cock and the contrasting bite of Draco’s fingernails at his hips. One hand reached up to tug at Harry’s fingers, and he had to look.

“Please,” Draco whispered into the base of Harry’s cock before wrapping his lips around the tip again and guiding Harry’s hand toward his hair.

Harry felt the heat of arousal take him to the next level. Even from that very first kiss – the one that Harry had offered Draco in the hopes that they would be _compatible_ , they had discovered that that Draco found pleasure in surrendering, and that Harry loved nothing more than finding pleasurable ways to make Draco lose his composure.

He grabbed two fistfuls of Draco’s hair and tugged until Harry’s cock sprang free of his mouth. Draco was breathing as if he’d just run a lap around the massive roof. Harry ached at the sight of him – head forced back, eyes unfocused and lips shining.

“Harry, I need…” Draco began, pausing to pull in another breath.

Harry urged Draco’s head back a little more until there was an impossibly long line of pale skin just waiting for him to claim. “Tell me.”

Draco moaned his approval and reached up to clasp Harry’s wrists, adding more weight, pulling back until Harry was unbalanced enough to have to place a knee on the floor of the roof between Draco’s. Harry took one more moment to lock away the image of Draco stretched back, skin shining in the night, before licking his way from the base of his throat, over Draco’s Adam’s apple and into that usually hidden place under his chin. 

“Anything.” Harry whispered between worshipful kisses, opening his fists and easing Draco back up to face him. Draco took a few deep breaths as one hand came up to trace the places Harry’s mouth had just been. “Tell me. Please.”

Draco blinked back at him, smiled, and then, as if a spell had been broken, shook his head a few times to clear his thoughts. Harry’s heart clenched painfully as Draco sat back on his feet and dropped his hands.  
“No, it’s all right. I’m sorry; I forgot we’re trying to go slow...”

“Fuck slow,” Harry swore. “I want you, now.”

And suddenly, there was the smirk Harry loved, the bite of challenge and playfulness pushing to the surface. “Then take me, Potter.”

Harry held out his hand and Draco went to him. They stood there for a moment, the sounds of the city all around them, their clothes forgotten, the late summer air all the cover they needed.

He wrapped Draco in his arms and traced the curve of his back. Their rings made a soft jangle as they met in the middle of their chests. “It was worth it.”

“What was?” Draco asked, pressing kisses into the damp hair covering Harry’s temple.

“The chance we took, the hiding, even the fucking curse.”

“Shh… Just let me…” Draco lifted Harry’s hand and kissed along his palm. He grinned just before capturing two of Harry’s fingers and slipping them into his mouth. 

Harry forgot how to breathe. The hot, wet press of Draco’s mouth, tongue and teeth pulled filthy sounds from his throat and made him ache and burn in all the right places. Draco’s mouth was a dangerous, delicious thing. It really didn’t matter what part of Harry it was wrapped around – that mouth was sinful. He closed the gap between them and ran his teeth along Draco’s ear, inhaling and tasting. 

_Mine._

None of this was new, not an inch of their bodies they hadn’t explored before, but Harry finally understood the worth of what they had, and made a promise to treasure every second.

“You’re incredible, Draco. I want you to know that.”

“I love you too, you great sap.”

Draco pushed him down onto the middle of the bed and Harry went willingly, pulling Draco over him, intoxicated by the combination of skin, hair and filthy words breathed against his ear. Draco’s mouth kept exploring as he pushed a leg over to straddle Harry’s hips. Harry ran his fingers up the outside of Draco’s thighs, slid them around and pulled until their bodies remembered the dance. He took them both in hand and stared at the sight of Draco, chest already flushed with arousal and stained deep red with Harry’s love bites. He took pleasure in the fact that all of this was his to worship. The sight of Draco – wrapped around him, marked and drunk on Harry’s every touch, his every word – it did powerful things to a man’s heart and mind. He stroked steadily, enjoying the beauty of Draco’s head thrown back, and the gentle roll of his hips.

Harry had the sudden urge to share the image with Draco, wanted him to see how truly stunning he looked, to feel how he was peeling Harry apart from the inside. Without a second thought, he reached up and swept his fingertips over Draco’s temple, whispering the spell that came to his lips without any effort. Draco froze above him, eyes wide and chest heaving.

“Unholy fuck! What was that?”

“Did it work?”

Draco grabbed Harry’s face and covered him in kisses and dirty words. “Bloody overwhelming! You love marking me – I knew it, Harry. All yours. Your power is such a fucking turn-on. Do you know how bloody talented…”

Grinning like an idiot, Harry rolled them over until Draco was pinned under him. He found a splotch of red at the base of Draco’s throat that wasn’t quite dark enough, and made it his mission to right that injustice. 

Draco moved under him, as if trying to be everywhere at once. “S’good… Nothing by halves… Bloody museum roof, Harry!”

Harry shook with silent laughter. “Much better than being home with Snape?”

“As soon as I can think straight, he’s getting a lecture on privacy.”

“Good. Give me your hand.”

Harry kissed Draco’s palm and thought about how ready he was, how much he missed the perfect fit of Draco’s body wrapped around his fingers, his cock. It was easy work to summon the lube. Draco groaned at the sight of Harry’s fingers, suddenly wet and slick. “Touch me,” he begged.

Harry kissed Draco slowly, licking Parseltongue promises along his collarbone, down his chest and into the damp hair surrounding Draco’s cock. His fingers went to work below, circling, questing, pushing deep until Draco was reaching for him, pleading with Harry for more. He planted one hand next to Draco’s head, and Draco turned his mouth toward it, placing kisses wherever he could reach. Harry withdrew his fingers slowly and wrapped them around Draco’s erection, stroking a few times before lifting Draco’s leg onto his shoulder and sliding home. Draco’s whole body shuddered as Harry rocked into him, gently at first, savouring the connection, the pulse, the heat.

Draco’s leg slipped down, but Harry pushed closer, going deeper as Draco reached to pull him in. Harry slid a hand between them and gripped Draco as they made love under the stars.

“I love you.”

“Harry…”

It felt right – everything from the brush of the open air on their skin, to the soft, desperate noises pouring out from Draco. Harry wanted to keep this memory on the top shelf of his mind and bring it back down during the hard days, the days that would threaten to rip them apart. Whatever was ahead, he wanted Draco there – couldn’t imagine why he had let himself doubt before.

Draco shifted and pushed, swore and licked until Harry couldn’t hold back any longer. He hitched Draco’s legs up and drove deep. It was uncoordinated and flawless, honest and wonderfully indecent. 

It was theirs. 

Harry’s ring swung freely between them, catching the lights of the city in a wild blur. Draco’s ring was somewhere behind him on the pillow, but Harry loved the look of the chain pulled tight across his throat. Harry lost himself in the sights, sounds and sensations of Draco: the huffed, staccato breaths, the embrace of his thighs, and the slide of their bodies together – slippery, hot, so close…

“Fucking _love_ you, Harry…”

Perfect.

“Come for me.”

~*~

Draco retreated deeper under the covers and reached back to pull Harry’s arm around him for added warmth. There was definitely a chill in the room, and from the distant sound of fluttering, he assumed that Harry had left the windows open again.

Without waking, Harry pulled Draco close, his slow, deep breaths tickling the hairs at the base of Draco’s neck. 

The fluttering continued, but Draco wasn’t yet ready to get up do anything about it. He was content to drift in that half-awake state that only lazy mornings allow. He was almost asleep again when Harry shifted, his half-hard cock brushing against Draco in an over-sensitive spot. 

The memories were suddenly there: Harry above him, around him, glass, rings, stars… He pulled his head out from the covers and immediately realised the impossibility of flapping curtains.

He tapped the arm wrapped around him. “Harry, wake up.”

“Mmm… No.”

“There are pigeons on the bed frame.”

The covers shook with Harry’s sleep-roughened laughter. He poked his head out, revealing a completely helpless mop of hair. “Ha! So there are.” At Harry’s exclamation, some of them beat their wings in fright and took off. “Sorry about that, boys. Here’s breakfast!” Two large bowls appeared on the building ledge and more birds flew over to investigate the seeds and water.

“Great, Potter. I imagine they’ll send guards up to see what kind of nutter is on the rooftop feeding the pigeons now.”

“Relax. It’s early yet. Museum won’t open for hours.” The cool, morning breeze picked up, making Draco shiver, but he didn’t want to leave just yet. 

“Come warm me up.”

Harry pulled the covers over them and settled back into position, one hand playing over the curve of Draco’s bare hip. Not that he would ever admit it out loud, but Draco loved the way Harry was incapable of being completely still in the mornings. He had wandering hands, twitchy hips and lips that never travelled far from Draco’s neck. As far as making someone feel adored and irresistible, Harry’s body held the guidebook.

“Mmm… Much better.”

“If I summoned tea, where do you think it would come from?” Harry asked, placing little kisses along Draco’s hairline.

Draco huffed out a laugh. “I think we’re breaking enough laws as it is. Let’s not get greedy.”

Harry listed off their offences on Draco’s fingers. “Public nudity, trespassing, mind-blowing sex on the roof of a landmark and fraternising with pigeons.“ The Muggles will be beside themselves.”

They spent a few more moments making up other ridiculous charges for the Muggle authorities to bring against them, laughed when they ventured into the absurd and then settled down into comfortable silence and the science of non-verbal communication.

As the sun crept along the roof and finally kissed the billowed glass, Draco was struck with a thought. He rolled onto his back. “If we could really go back to the beginning, and do everything publically, do you suppose we’d still be married?”

“Yes,” Harry said without pause, lifting up on an elbow to glance down at Draco.

“Would you have stood with me, in front of everyone?” 

“Depends,” Harry said with a slight shrug, smile tugging up the corners of his mouth. “What kind of a wedding was it?”

Draco played along. “Oh, a grand affair – too many flowers, too many guests and far too many layers of clothing.”

“Sounds exhausting.”

“I agree. A lot of bother, if you ask me,”

“Seriously, though,” Harry began, all teasing gone. “I think we should.”

“Have a public ceremony?”

“Yeah, why not?” Harry asked. “I’m through with hiding. We deserve more than that.”

“Could be painting targets on our backs.”

“We have Aurors and Healers on our side. Someone like Blaise would be stupid to try anything like that again.” He took a few breaths before asking: “What do you think?”

Draco slipped his chain off and tucked it into Harry’s palm, wrapping both their fingers around it. “I think its time we put these rings on our fingers, where they belong.” The smile Harry gave him was bright and sincere. 

“There might be reporters – and gingers,” Harry warned.

Draco chuckled and pulled Harry down for a kiss that turned into several more. “We’ve survived worse.”

“True.” Harry pulled back, eyes hopeful “So, is that a yes?”

Draco closed his hand around Harry’s necklace and firmly tugged him back down. “Yes. Now, let’s make a few more memories before the museum opens.”

~*~

“Harry?”

“Hey, Teddy, come in.”

Harry fussed with his tuxedo in the mirror as Teddy closed the door behind him. His hair had changed since Harry had seen him an hour ago. It was now short, black and spiky with a few chunks of orange to add a little splash of colour.

“Wow. Good job on the hair. I love it.”

Teddy beamed at their reflections. “Took me awhile to figure out how to get the orange just where I wanted it.” He stuck his hands into his dress trousers and stepped up beside Harry. “We look like we’re related.”

Harry agreed, throwing an arm around his godson. “You’ve got the rings? Best Man has the most important job.”

Teddy gave an exaggerated eye roll. “Uncle Ron’s reminded me a million times. They’re right here,” he said, shaking his pocket until they both heard the sound of the bands clinking together.

“Good man. You ready?”

“Can I ask you one thing before we go?”

“Sure.”

“Why Halloween? I heard Grandmother say it’s not a happy day for either of you.”

“She’s right. We both lost people we loved on Halloween.” When Teddy kept staring at Harry as if he were very strange, Harry began again. “Aunt Hermione says it’s called reclaiming – the idea of taking something negative and turning it around.”

“So you replace the sad memories with a wedding?”

“Almost. The people we lost: my parents and Draco’s mum – your Great Aunt Narcissa – they would have loved to be here, to see this, to know that we’re happy. It’s our way of connecting our past with our future.”

“That makes sense. I like it.”

“And I know your folks would be proud that you’re standing up there with me. I know I am.”

Teddy ducked his head and smiled. “Thanks, Harry.”

“We should probably go,” Harry said, nodding to the door. “Draco gets twitchy if he’s left waiting too long.”

~*~

The wedding went as smooth as could be expected with a wide variety of friends, family, select reporters, coworkers, half-giants and a few magical creatures in attendance.

Draco was radiant in his black dress robes trimmed with orange and silver. Harry met him at the entrance of their garden to walk hand in hand down the aisle at sunset. Garden torches lined the path, throwing dancing shadows on the guests as the sunlight faded. Harry had turned back for a moment to look at their new country home – warm and inviting – and imagined everyone they had lost looking on, smiling or waving. Then, Draco squeezed his hand, and he became Harry’s only focus.

Andromeda officiated, looking lovely in silver robes, her salt and pepper hair fanned out over her shoulders. She spoke of commitment, determination, perseverance and love. Harry’s heart filled up with the falling night, the words of the vows and the press of Draco’s hand in his. 

When it came time for the rings, Teddy was so caught up in standing still and not doing anything to mess up the ceremony, that he nearly missed his cue. With flushed cheeks and a big smile, he held out one hand to each of them and presented the rings. 

The bands were simple and familiar, one of the only things he and Draco had decided not to change in their quest to begin everything again. Draco went first, sliding his ring onto Harry’s finger, waiting patiently until it resized itself. Harry went next, repeating the formal words and blushing when Draco brought his free hand up to wipe away a single tear Harry hadn’t felt escape. With one final sweep of Andromeda’s hands – that caused the rings to glow for an instant – it was time for the last order of business.

The kiss was deep, unhurried and serenaded by the applause of their friends. Harry couldn’t have imagined a better moment, until Draco pulled close and whispered: “Oh, the plans I have for you…” against the rim of Harry’s ear, sending delicious sparks right through him. “Send these people home as soon as possible.” After that, Harry was hard-pressed to imagine anything else other than the unspoken ways in which they were going to enjoy their new home, their new life – and each other. 

The End

~*~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, friends, here we are at the end! This adventure has been an absolute joy from plot bunny to completion, but without you it wouldn't have been the same. Once again, so much love to those of you who were part of the creative process, all the readers and all the H/D lovers out there.  
> Thanks for being my reason for writing.  
> *stretches out arms and hugs you all*


End file.
